


Faeted

by Decemberangel



Series: Alphabet Soup [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Fae, Animal Abuse, Awkward Flirting, Bad Alpha Laura Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fae & Fairies, Fae Stiles Stilinski, Good Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Good Peter Hale, Hurt Derek, Hurt Peter, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nature Magic, Nemeton, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is trying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:37:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decemberangel/pseuds/Decemberangel
Summary: Stiles has always been different. When he was four, his tantrum resulted in an earthquake. When he was twelve and he broke his ankle, his tears sprouted weeds. When he was seventeen and he had his first heartbreak, he caused a landslide. He's half-fae and his whole life has been one magical day after another. He loves his gifts and he wouldn't trade them. Stiles has been resigned to a quiet, happy life. Of course, he'd be happier if he had someone who could love him just as much as they loved his magic.Separating Stiles from his power has always been the hard part for anyone Stiles tries to date.Peter is looking for a quiet life. After waking up from his coma, losing his family, and being kicked out of the only family he has left, he's looking for somewhere to lay low. To start over again. He had his brush with power and was almost killed for it, now, he's learned to be cautious of power. Even though Beacon Hills was where his entire life ended, he can't picture himself anywhere else.Stiles offers all of the quiet Peter desires and all the power he doesn't.





	1. Aconitum

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back and so excited about this fic, it's going to be very wholesome, I think. I'm going to try a new angle and I'm very excited to write this fic. Personally, I love all things homesteading. I love a happy, mildly angsty, magical story so this is what I hope to project. I know I don't have a lot in the tags and the summary was a little iffy but I hope you stick with me! This chapter is short and it's just a little preview into Stiles' power and his little life.  
> I hope you enjoy! If you have any suggestions or comments please let me know!  
> <3

_ “They won’ like me, mama.”  _

 

_ “Well now, how are you so sure about that when they haven’t even met you yet my little flower?”  _

_ “No one plays with me at the park, they won’ in school.”  _

 

_ “Now don’t sound so forlorn, my dearest boy. They just don’t know you yet. When they do get to know you, they’ll see you as I see you. A brave, kind, beautiful soul.” _

 

_ “How can they see my soul, mama?” _

 

_ “Oh my darling, in time they will see. But, sweetheart, just remember that sometimes, there will be some people in this world that will see your soul and they will try to hurt you. They’ll try and dampen and stomp out that brilliant light within you. Stiles, I know you are stronger than them. You are my precious flower, made from pure love and light. No matter who you meet, whoever tries to hurt you, you must stay true to your light.” _

 

_ “Do my best for you mama.” _

_ “There now, that’s my flower.” _

  
  


. . .

 

“I don’t expect you to understand you, great oaf,” Stiles practically snarled at the towering man in front of him, standing with a shotgun pointed at Stiles’ chest. He refuses to back down, however, knowing that the man is all bluster.

“It’s a damn animal.” The man grits through his teeth, his grip painful around the gun and anger pulsing through him, “It was in my trap so now it's my property. Now drop it and walk away.” 

Stiles tightened his arms around the shaking, bleeding fox in his embrace.he had only been out for a walk in The Preserve when he stumbled on a nasty hunting trap that had snared the fox in its metal grip. The poor thing's leg had been caught and now hangs limp, the animal whimpering and terrified. So the moment Stiles could get it into his arms, she knew she was going to be safe even from the hunter pointing a gun at her savior.

“ _ She _ is not your property and you are hunting illegally. This is a nature preserve, which means that the animals within it or not to be hunted.” Stiles says pointedly, “If you would like I can point you in the direction of the sheriff, my father, who would be very interested to know that you are currently pointing a gun at my chest.” 

The hunter fumes, his entire body tense with anger and for a moment he considers shooting the boy for real. He’s pissed beyond belief but the boy makes a point, he can’t shoot some random kid, least of all the sheriff’s kid. He lowers his gun and takes one last glaring look at the boy and his fox before stomping away. When the man is out of sight, Stiles lets out a breath and relaxes around the animal. He smiles down at the poor shaking thing.

“He’s gone now.” Stiles says gently so as to calm the little thing down, “I hate using the ‘my dad’s the sheriff card’ but it was the last card I had to play. That asshat wasn’t going to let up for anything.”

The exhausted and injured fox looks up at Stiles and chitters in agreement and gratitude. Stiles grins at the girl and chuckles.

“Alright, how about we take a look at that leg and I’ll see what I can do, huh?” Stiles lays the fox on the forest floor gently and examines the furry leg calculatingly, “Not a problem.” He moves his fingers in a swirling motion and immediately a golden glow flows from his fingertips in a mini tornado to encompass the fox’s leg. The animal feels no fear, only gratitude and peace knowing that her savior is healing her. 

Right before Stiles’ eyes, the leg mends and in the next moment, the glow is gone and the fox is on her feet. She looks at him with intelligent and happy eyes. The girl chitters again and buts her head against Stiles’ own in a show of affection. 

“No need to thank me, my dear. Just stay safe. I hope to see you more often in my walks.” Stiles grins at the animal. The fox just looks at him confused, she doesn’t understand, isn’t he taking her with him? “I’ll see you around, stay out of hunting traps.” Stiles chuckles. He picks up the trap left behind by the hunter, making a mental note to do more thorough sweeps through the woods to make sure there are no others just laying around for anyone to get caught in. He’ll be reporting that hunter to his father as well as the game and fish department for the county so they can deal with him. 

Stiles begins his walk home and gets nearly to his car when he sees a little red fox with black feet trailing behind him some feet away, trying to be as stealthy as possible but failing miserably. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles laughs jovially. “Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

She only inches closer to him and stops, lifting one paw off the ground as if to say,  _ well I was going home with you obviously. _ Stiles thinks for a moment before he realizes.

“Oh you want to come home with me, don’t you?” Stiles asks the vixen. She takes another couple quick steps, coming to sit at his feet, “I can’t bring home  _ another _ animal. . .my dad will kill me!” 

The fox hangs her head comically and Stiles shifts on his feet uncomfortably, knowing that his father will definitely be very angry if he brought another creature into their home. . .but surely his father wouldn’t mind an animal that came and went? Their backyard is adjacent to the preserve and she could come and go as she pleases, she could build her den in his backyard? She could help keep the rabbits out of his garden. . .though he would have to be explicit about her not chasing any other creature in his yard. 

“Well. . .alright. But you can’t hunt in my home, you must do that in the preserve. You can build a den in my yard so long as you can discourage the bunnies from my garden. Be the garden’s protector as payment for taking up residence in my home.” Stiles offers the fox, “There will not be any killing within the borders of my property and as long as you can do that, then you can stay with me.”

The fox makes an agreeable clicking noise then accompanies her new friend home.

“Dad’s going to love this,” Stiles says sarcastically, “He’s so tired of me bringing animals back home. First the three cats then the dog. Then Reginald, my bunny, that turned into  _ many _ bunnies. And the birds. . .then the mice. . .and the turtle. Now a fox. . .yeah, he’s going to  _ love _ this.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck, ready to take on his father to let the fox take up residence. “I guess I should get your name, shouldn’t I?

The fox barks in agreement.

“Well, how about Red?” Stiles offers the fox, “Vixen? I like Vixen, how about you?” He looks down at the fox and grins when she chirps in agreement.

“Alright then, Vixen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Stiles reaches the door to his backyard fence after another two miles of walking through the woods, admiring the trees and life all around him as he went. 

It’s getting colder now that October is passing by. There’s a chill in the air and the clouds are darker. Stiles feels the winter keenly, he misses the sunlight and he knows that he’s not going to be feeling so hot here soon. With the lack of sunshine, his strength tends to dim. Much like his garden, too long in overcast and the leaves start to wilt. Once Stiles gets into his yard, he points Vixen to space where she can make her den and goes on to walk through the rows in his garden. The eggplants are growing so large. These well-established bushes are so expansive. He cuts trims them down occasionally but they just grow so quickly. The plant is flowering and soon he knows he’s going to have more eggplant than he knows what to do with. The broccoli is growing as well and the beets are doing fantastic. Soon it will be time to harvest and make his signature beet juice concoction. A lady in town swears it helped to cure her husband's diabetes. Stiles' father swears it's disgusting and it is  _giving_ him diabetes. Which Stiles knows is only the man trying to get out of taking it.

The winter farmer’s markets are always fun and his garden is going to be fantastic. His beehives are producing delicious orange blossom honey from his orange trees, the beet juice always sells, and his chickens are healthy and laying eggs on the regular. The eggs are also a good sell. Stiles had also spent the last two weeks making bricks of beeswax. His father doesn’t know how Stiles manages to find the time to do all these things, though Stiles knows it’s because he doesn’t need to sleep. 

The farmer’s market is in two days, he’s still got plenty to do. The beets need to be canned and the product needs to be picked, sorted and cleaned. He’s excited, especially since it’s going to be a beautiful Saturday morning, or so says the forecast. Stiles was never very good at controlling the weather, unlike his mother. Stiles is much better with plants and animals. Being only half fae, he doesn’t get the choice to be good with both. Not that Stiles was ever particularly upset with that fact. Stiles has always felt blessed with what he has. He wouldn’t trade his gifts for anything. Stiles brushes a gentle finger across the broad, green leaf of one of his eggplants. It’s almost nine in the morning so the sprinkler system will be turning on here in a minute. He makes his way over to the chicken feed to take care of his little hens. 

“Goodmorning, ladies!” He says cheerfully. Spreading the feed throughout their pen only takes a few minutes and the hens quickly swarm their friend. He takes the time they’re out on the grass eating to sweep the coop out and collect the droppings to put in the garden. He puts the droppings in the nearby bin and walks back out of the pen and locks it up. 

Next is the beehive. He grabs his bucket and tools, making his way to the far corner of the yard where his orange trees and beehives are located. It’s a calm, quiet morning. The bees are buzzing around him, landing on his body in different places but Stiles feels their contentment. They’re happy little bees buzzing around minding their own business.

“Hello, everyone.” Stiles smiles brilliantly, “How are you all today?”

He knows they won’t answer back in words but in action. The little creatures fly around him as he lifts the frames out of each box, checking to see if they were ready to harvest the honey. After inspecting all the frames and picking the ones he wants, he snaps his fingers and the honey is surrounded in an equally golden glow. The liquid flows from the frames and into the bucket to be filtered out later. The fae smiles as he watches the honey extracting. It smells wonderful and he can’t help but eat some of the overgrowing honeycombs. The bees buzz around him and fill the air with their song. Stiles turns around and lets his magic work while he collects the rest of the overgrown honeycomb in order to harvest the wax down the road.

“The honey looks amazing, you guys!” He compliments his bees often and he’s sure that is what helps to produce such a delicious product. After five boxes in one hive, Stiles feels healthily exhausted. He makes quick work of harvesting and places the boxes back where they belong. He takes another look at his yard from his work shed and smiles. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly, opening his hands to release the magic inside him. It flows from his fingers and travels through the yard, collecting fruit from the trees, veggitables from the garden, and reinvigerating the soil. At his feet, he watches as his baskets fill with bright orange fruit, dark purple eggplant, leafy greens, and crisp smelling dirt. 

Vixen has been busy setting about the yard and Stiles can see his cats laying in the sun on the porch. His dog, a large german shephard he named April. She lounges on the steps and grins at him. He’s got to take her on a walk sometime soon. While his magic is roaming about the yard, Stiles takes his egg basket and makes his way back into the chicken pen. He lifts each egg gently and sets it in his basket. 

“Thank you, ladies. I’m thinking with the money I make at the market this weekend that I might buy another heat lamp for you girls. For winter. Would you guys like that?” He speaks to them. Their old heat lamp is starting to get old so Stiles thinks it’s time to replace it with a newer, better one. 

Once his morning chores are finished, he heads into his shed to pour the honey through the strainer. Then he’ll go inside and eat some lunch. He’s absolutely starving. He bids goodbye to the chickens and to all the animals he sees in his yard before turning in for the afternoon.

“Come along, April. How about some lunch?” Stiles asks his friend. The dog happily follows him into the house where Stiles first feeds her before himself as well as the cats, then begins on lunch for himself. He puts on music and moves about the kitchen with ease, singing along with each song. The house is much warmer and Stiles’ joints begin to ease up once more and he moves with less stiffness with each passing minute. While his chicken is searing in the pan, he snacks on a large slice of chocolate cake. The sugar is sharp in his tongue and he feels his metabolism soaking it all up. After exherting himself so much this morning, he’s in need of a power up. 

“What a beautiful morning.” Stiles grins, looking out the window at the yard in front of him. It might be gloomy but the natural world around him is so alive. He breathes deeply, feeling the energy around him and he smiles. He's had a tough go of things recently, but now things have calmed down and he's getting back into the swing of things. He's overjoyed to be back in his home, back in his garden, back in his forest. He's sworn off dating and now he's happy that that door is closed. _Who needs a significant other when you have all this?_ Stiles thinks to himself.  _Not_ _me._  

He has too many things to do to concern himself with a relationship.


	2. Begoniaceae

It’s three in the morning and Stiles is furiously jarring honey as quickly as he possibly can. His father is currently passed out on the couch with his mouth wide open and snoring loudly, covered in a blanket that Stiles placed on him. The TV is on, Stiles is watching Planet Earth while he jars the honey. The night is quiet and he’s working diligently. The farmer’s market is in a couple hours and he needs to finish prepping his products. The candles he made with his beeswax are cooling on the counter, waiting to be placed in the baskets. The homemade dog biscuits he made earlier that day are on the cooling racks, veggies already packed away and the beet juice is next on his list to jar. 

He’s been running around all night and Stiles is fairly surprised his father hasn’t woken up from the noise. April lays in her corner on her plush bed, snoring just as loudly as his father. Stiles is thinking about the market in the morning, of all the people he’s going to see and all the dogs. He loves seeing all the dogs. Stiles loves the market. He loves the bustling activity, the morning air, the newly risen sun, and the cheerful atmosphere. He loves his little booth and he loves his customers. It’s his favorite weekend activity. 

Time passes so quickly for Stiles as he gets into a rhythm. Soon enough, it’s five AM and he needs to get everything loaded in the jeep. He whistles to himself as he hauls the crates out and puts them on the roof rack, strapping them down and sliding the other crates into the back. He wipes the sweat from his cold brow and retrieves the folding tables and his money box, sliding them into the jeep on top of the crates and he sighs. He’s running late. 

“April!” Stiles shouts at the house, “Let’s go, girl!” 

His dog comes running from the house and jumps into the open passenger side, barking in approval. Stiles chuckles and closes the door for her, turning to get in the driver’s seat and zoom off to the market. He lowers the windows to the jeep and laughs at April’s joyous wines. Her pink tongue lolls out of her mouth as she stuck her big head out the window. It’s a twenty-minute drive to the town square where the market is located. When he pulls up, some booths are already set up and others are late just like him. He pulls up to his usual spot and begins his routine. The morning is cool and he’s glad he opted for a jacket. It’ll warm up soon enough but the nippy air is enough to penetrate one of his flannels. April waits patiently by the booth playing guard dog over Stiles’ things.

He has a small stand. He doesn’t have too much product, after all, he’s got a small patch of land in which he grows his vegetables and he only has one hive. Sure, his little patch of heaven produces more product than most would imagine it could, but he still doesn’t have the output that most of the other honey stands have or the variety that the produce vendors have. If Stiles could, he’d have a large patch of land that he would have his own little store on. Then he could sell his product every day. He would grow everything he could get his hands on. He’d have an orchard, he’d have hives all throughout his property and he would work the land. He would be overjoyed to have that kind of opportunity. 

Stiles loses himself in thought for a few minutes as he dreams about organic and healthy product. His magic would go absolutely crazy, he’d be able to just let it ripen the land and make the Earth so fertile. He would welcome his home to his fae friends, the ones that have the same passion for plant life that he has. 

But this is only a dream. 

Instead, he puts out his crates of oranges and assorted veggies, his jars of honey and beet juice. He creates a small display with the candles he was able to make and the small jars of pollen he was able to collect. He loves his little stand and opts to be grateful for what he has and grateful for the bounty that his gifts and natural green thumb have procured. People begin filing into the market after about an hour, Stiles is happily smiling and greeting people in town, talking to them about anything under the sun.

“Goodmorning, Stiles.” Mrs. Grahm, an elderly woman who comes to his stand every week to say hello and stock up on his beet juice and honey, greets him with a happy smile. She’s got her signature white curls and large rimmed bifocals. Her small dog, an older shitzu greets April as well.

“Hello, Mrs. Grahm, how are you this fine morning?” Stiles smiles at her. He loves Mrs. Grahm. She’s a sweet old lady that has been a repeat customer for years. She’s been a good friend to Stiles and his father, every year she makes these delicious homemade caramels that she  _ always _ gives the two of them. They’re the greatest things he’s ever had and he’s hoping that she lets him shadow her this year so he can make them.

“Oh you know how it is, sweetheart. Harold is an old curmudgeon as usual. He didn’t want to come down with me.” She rolls her eyes, snarking about her husband of fifty years. Stiles has only met Harold Grahm a few times but he knows the old man is very curmudgeon, through means well. “You know your beet tonic has really been a miracle for Harold. His blood is flowing like it was when he was in his thirties! The doctor said his DVT is better as well, no more clots! I swear, and this man is so stubborn about taking the juice but I’ve started sneaking it into his food.” She says, pointer her boney finger at Stiles but smiles like she’s gotten the last laugh.

“That’s great, Mrs. Grahm,” Stiles chuckles, “I’m glad he’s feeling better.”

“And you know Harold, he won’t admit he’s feeling better.” She rolls her eyes fondly.

“You know how stubborn men can be,” Stiles laughs, “My father is the same way.”

“How is your father, by the way?” She asks kindly.

“Oh good, working more and more but I think he’s just trying to keep busy.” Stiles shrugs.

“And you, dear? Have you met anyone special lately?” She asks suggestively with a coy smirk.

“Oh no,” Stiles laughs, “No, I haven’t been in the dating game for a while now. Besides, there aren’t any eligible bachelors in Beacon Hills at the moment.” he tells her. She rolls her eyes and sighs.

“You know you could find one if you really looked, young man.” She accuses lightly, “Besides, you might be interested to know that the Hale boy has moved back to town.” 

“Hale boy?”

“He’s older than you but I’ve known him for quite some time. He’s moved back into his apartment across the street but you know I saw him at the grocery store two days ago. He’s moved back from New York.” She tells him. Stiles knows she’s one of the biggest gossips in town but he would be lying if he said he too didn’t enjoy a little gossip every once and a while. “Poor boy, he lost so much here. Honestly, I was shocked he decided to return.”

“What’s his name?” Stiles asks.

“Peter Hale.” She says, “Sweetest man you’d ever meet. Of course, he’s got a hard exterior but after the life he’s had, no one could blame him.”

Stiles nods, thinking about what she’s said. He’s not interested in dating at the moment given the failed attempts in his past. 

“If you see him around you should speak to him, he’s a great man. Well traveled and smart. Very intriguing and mysterious. I think you would like him.” She playfully jabs him with an elbow and chuckles, “Anyways. I’ll get going dear, I have a nail appointment here soon. Thank you for the beet juice. Tell your father I said hello.”

“Bye Mrs. Grahm. Have a great weekend.” Stiles says goodbye, glad that she’s done trying to set him up. He watches her walk off into the crowd, tugging her little dog along with her.

He shakes off that conversation and moves to speak with other customers. He doesn’t really think about the conversation he had with Mrs. Grahm much more than that. Stiles goes about his morning as he usually does, he talks to customers, giving out gardening and cooking advice. It’s only thirty minutes away from clean up when April gets to her feet and growls menacingly, barking loudly. Stiles turns around quickly, ready to get April under control before she does something not so friendly. When he turns, he sees a man, wide in stature with chiseled everything and a smirk on his face. Stiles turns quickly enough to see the man’s eyes flash iridescent blue but only for a short second. He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention and he’s on guard. The man in front of him turns to look at Stiles and is stalled for a moment. Stiles sees that this man is figuring out what Stiles is just like Stiles is trying to figure out what this man is. Though Stiles isn’t an idiot, he already knows what this man is. He’s a werewolf. 

“I’m told that your honey is the best I’ll ever find.” He starts out. Stiles quiet April with a gentle hand on her head and a little calming magic.

“You heard right,” Stiles says lightly. He hasn’t met another magical creature in Beacon Hills in a while, not since Scott, “My honey is definitely the best in town.”

“That’s good because to make a decent cup of coffee, I need honey.” The man chuckles. There’s a moment of silence as they keep intense eye contact. Stiles feels like he’s staring into the eyes of a predator, of course, he knows he is. “I’m new to town. My name is Peter.” 

Stiles is grateful for Peter breaking the silence and easing their staring contest, “Mrs. Grahm mentioned you had moved back to town.”

“Yes, I just returned recently. I needed a change of pace.” Peter shrugs, “Beacon Hills is much slower.” Stiles can tell that there’s more, the empath in him is rising to the surface and he can see just how hurt and damaged this man is. Peter’s aura is a sick, angry red with tinges of sickly green and putrid yellow. There’s a lot of yellow. Stiles can see that he’s almost on the verge, of what, Stiles isn’t sure. He only knows that Peter is hurting.  _ Something _ brought him to Beacon Hills and Stiles isn’t sure what it is but he’s determined to make sure that Peter doesn’t ruin this nice,  _ good _ thing he has here in his home town.

“I’m sure. Well, hopefully, you find everything you’re looking for.” Stiles says, handing him a jar of honey. Peter accepts it with a small quirk to his lips. 

“Likewise,” Peter says, reading Stiles like a book. The half-fae raises an eyebrow and squints his eyes at the werewolf in front of him. Peter hands Stiles a twenty dollar bill and walks away without taking his change. He watches Peter walk away and wonders what is happening inside that werewolfy brain of his. 

“Alright, April, it’s been a good day and we’ve successfully gotten rid of the majority of our stuff. Why don’t we pack up and head home?” Stiles suggests to his faithful companion.

April barks in agreement and as Stiles is packing up, he thinks about his encounter with Peter Hale. He thinks about those piercing blue eyes, the cutting features, the intelligent gaze. Mrs. Grahm was correct in pointing out the man’s hard exterior. Stiles thinks about what he could have possibly gone through to possess that kind of stature and aura.  _ Curiosity killed the cat _ , Stiles reminds himself. One thing he’s always chastised himself for is not taking his own advice and now he’ll feel that more than ever.  

Stiles doesn’t see Peter for what he is: danger. To what, Stiles won’t find out till it’s too later, but one this is for sure, the seed has been planted and Stiles is going to reap what he sews. There is usually not too much to know about what could possibly happen in the future. Stiles has the ability to feel emotion, grow anything he sets his mind to, and relate to the animal soul of any creature he comes in contact with, but he doesn’t have the ability of clairvoyance. A gift he certainly wishes he has.

There’s only so much Stiles can do, of course.

The future holds many possibilities for everyone, even for Stiles. And sometimes those possibilities aren’t always on the agenda but they happen nonetheless. Stiles is just going to have to figure that one little fact out on his own. Even though he has successfully bubble wrapped himself in his own little world, fate has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Well, I've really put my mind to this story and come up with some good things! I'm so happy that you guys are still with me, I know it's been so long since I've updated. Thank you for hanging in there and please feel free to message me with ideas and things you want to see!  
> So, fun fact: I saw my fic posted on a tumblr feed advertising my fic!!!! That was amazing! I've only seen one of my other fics, Fox Fire, on there and it always makes me so happy to see other people talking about my fic! This was amazing for me because I scroll that tumblr looking for fics to read all the time so this was amazing. Thank you, whoever put that up!  
> Hope you all have a great weekend!


	3. Cosmos Bippinatus

It’s a cold day. The weather turned so suddenly that Stiles almost did a double take at the crisp air when he stepped out onto his front porch. He thinks for a moment about the weather. About the barren trees, the dead and fallen leaves on the ground that seemed to appear there almost overnight.  _ Probably another fae, _ he thinks. 

“Come on, April.” Stiles claps his hand and calls his dog out for a walk. The energetic bounces out of the house and runs to him. 

There was a whisper in the air that Stiles tries to listen to. In the woods, the branches seemed to carry on their own conversation. This  _ life _ they share amongst themselves just whistles in his ears. He can understand their language. Stiles listens keenly. Trees are the chattiest of all the Earth’s beings. Stiles looks up at the shaking branches, smiles, and goes about his walk. The trees talk in a simple language, one that Stiles knows all too well. It’s shared among most plant life. It’s a vibration of emotion, their language is shared through feeling and gentle insistence. 

Stiles feels their roots deep underneath the ground, spread out like the veins in his own body. They pass on one secret message to another. He feels their annoyance at the burrowing creatures, he feels their thirst, he feels their unwavering kindness. Stiles walks past a couple trees on his walk that he planted himself. After certain trees had died in the preserve or fallen, Stiles plants new ones in their stead, channeling his energy into a small seed that grows with every ounce of magic he puts into it. There are many trees now that Stiles has helped bring to life and they regard him with familiarity and love. 

“How about we visit the Nemeton today, girl? I haven’t seen the tree in a while. It’s probably time for another visit.” Stiles speaks to April. The dog happily follows Stiles deeper into the trees. 

He brushes his fingers along the trunks of some great pine trees, treating them to a little magic along the way. The smaller saplings’ leaves sway close to Stiles as if to hug him as a small child would. They’re so young and Stiles loves them for their loving nature. Stiles picks a large branch off the forest floor and throws it for April to play fetch. The pup has so much energy inside her that Stiles is keen on exhausting. Stiles is half a mile away from the Nemeton when he feels something. . .wrong. Something not entirely correct with the great tree’s energy. The soil itself seems permeated with something lingering in the molecules. Something not supposed to be there. He treads carefully on the ground, his footsteps working to clear the affected soil. April picks up on his mood and stands at attention, her guard up. The poor tree’s roots are damaged and aching. They reach for Stiles’ healing touch, her aura calling out to the gentle care that Stiles is offering. 

“I left you alone for too long,” Stiles whispers out into the trees, they all feel sorrow for their ailing friend. “What happened to you?” He asks the tree upon seeing its trunk mangled and hurt, the leaves wilted and injured. Stiles is horrified. He reaches a hand out to the tree and pours all of himself into the tree, mending the trunk and healing its sickly roots. The tree clings to Stiles and won’t let go. He’s exhausted after only a few moments and can’t give any more. He feels the tree’s lifeforce is stronger but not all the way healed. 

“I promise I will return every day to give you all that I can. I will find who did this to you.” Stiles looks at the scars on the trunk. The scars of claw marks, strong and angry that run down her trunk. Stiles won’t let this go unpunished. 

“Well isn’t this interesting.” a familiar voice resounds behind him. He turns quickly to see Peter Hale standing behind him with that all too familiar smirk. Stiles’ eyes narrow to slits and he looks to the trunk, then back at Peter. The wheels turning in his head. Peter puts his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t do this, rest assured.”

“And I should trust your word on that?” Stiles says back, his voice bracing and accusatory. Peter chuckles and walks up to the tree, places a gentle hand on her bark and Stiles feels the tree respond to Peter with open excitement. The tree knows him and loves him. She doesn’t fear him. It’s strong evidence that speaks to the man’s relationship with the tree. 

“You’re in the clear. She vouches for you.” Stiles relaxes but only marginally, “You’re the only werewolf in town and if it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“I think a better question might be  _ what _ was it.” Peter’s smirk falls into a thoughtful expression. “You and I are the only supernatural creatures in town at the moment. It stands to reason that an intruder has made itself home in Beacon Hills. They must not like trees.”

“At least just not  _ this _ particular tree.” Stiles rolls his eyes, “No other tree in the forest was injured like this.” Peter looks at Stiles with a considering glance.

“And what, pray tell, are you?” Peter inquires. The wolf turns to face Stiles in a stance not unfamiliar to Stiles.

“Don’t you already know?” Stiles teases the wolf. Peter smiles for once, a genuine smile, and shakes his head.

“There are only a few options that I could speculate. I don’t know your abilities enough to say for sure, though your scent points me in a few directions.” Peter tells him with a chuckle.

“And what exactly do I smell like?” Stiles’ curiosity begs the question.

“Like the Earth. Like ozone when you practice your magic. Like life.” Peter offers. “Though I have a feeling what you are is lower down on my list. I’m sure your kind is much less common than mine.”

“You would be correct.” Stiles smirks, “I’m one of a kind and don’t you forget it.”

“Believe me. I won’t.” Peter says coyly. The wolf has certainly enjoyed the banter with this new person. He thinks it’s nice to not be the only supernatural being in their small town, but judging by the strength of the ozone in the air, Peter recognizes the power this person holds. Though he looks unassuming, Peter can tell that Stiles isn’t a being he wants to trifle with. He’s had his brushes with power in the forms of different creatures and not all of them have been good occasions. The last thing Peter needs is to be injured or killed this far away from his Alpha. He sees the power surrounding Stiles for what it is. Dangerous. 

“I’ll look into the marking on the tree.” Peter tells him, “Focus on healing her and I’ll be in touch. Your honey is perfect by the way. A product of your own power, I assume?”

“My bees do all the work,” Stiles says proudly, “I just help keep them healthy and natural.”

“Well, then I imagine they’re the most well-kept bees in existence,” Peter says almost flirtatiously. Stiles’ eyes widen a little in surprise but nods nonetheless.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, “I guess I’ll see you around. Let’s go April.” Stiles turns to the tree one last time and whispers in her language that he’ll be back. He promises.

Peter watches their quick exchange critically. He hears a whisper from Stiles that sounds akin to the rustle of wind in the trees. It’s intriguing and Peter has to remind himself,  _ curiosity killed the cat _ . He offers an awkward smile in goodbye to Stiles as he turns and walks away with his dog at his heel. He feels a strange feeling towards the man but Peter knows it’s through his wolf. The most animalistic and primal parts of his nature, the wolf inside of him, feels connected to the strange man and that realization alone terrifies Peter because it’s such a foreign, unknown feeling. He shakes it off and is grateful when it disappears with the man through the trees. He only hopes that Stiles doesn’t feel that connection.

The young half-fae walks away from the encounter with Peter with a weird feeling in his gut. He tries to think about the last time he felt like this and comes up short. He’s exhausted from his exchange with the Nemeton, however, and thinks that maybe when he’s more well rested that he’ll feel better. He pulls an emergency lollipop out of his pocket and pops it into his mouth, hoping for a power up strong enough to get him home. Then he can eat a few bowls of cereal and enough ice cream to help him feel alright again.

By the time he reaches home again, April is tuckered out enough to go straight to her bed and lay down. Stiles has enough strength to make himself a bowl of cereal and grab a carton of his ice cream before plopping down on the couch. He feels better with each bite of sugary cereal and ice cream. He eats almost like a zombie, slowly gaining energy with each spoonful. There are no thoughts running through his head. April watches him from her bed across the room, equally as tuckered out. 

Stiles has enough brainpower to turn on the TV and watch without really absorbing any information. When his father comes home after a couple hours, he sees Stiles staring aimlessly at the TV. An empty carton of ice cream on the floor. He knows that Stiles exerted himself today and chuffs in amusement. His son is twenty-two and he would figure that Stiles would know better. He makes a cup of orange juice for Stiles and grabs a water bottle for himself. He gently prods his son, waking him up from his hibernation mode. 

“When did you get home?” Stiles asks timidly.

“Only a few minutes ago,” His father groans as he sits into his chair, “You exhausted yourself today.” Stiles nodded bashfully.

“I took April on a walk and went to visit the Nemeton today. Something had torn the poor tree apart so I needed to help repair the damage.” Stiles tells his father. The good sheriff nods in understanding, “Peter Hale was there.”

“Hale. . .why does that name sound familiar?” His father asks.

“The Hales lived here a long time ago. They lost the majority of their family in a fire caused by that hunter, Kate.” Stiles fills his father in, “They were the pack that belonged to this territory. After the fire, the surviving members left the state. Now Peter’s back.”

“Oh, and how is he?” His father asks.

“Fine, I think. Settling in.” Stiles shrugs, sipping on his orange juice.

“Why was he at the Nemeton? Did he hurt the tree?”

“No, I thought he had but the tree recognized him her friend, not her abuser. Peter says he’ll look into who or what did it, but he seems to think that there’s another creature in Beacon Hills now.” Stiles sighs, his mind becomes troubled, “I don’t think that whatever did it is friendly, though Dad. I think it’s just the first sign of trouble.”

His father is silent for a few moments, looking at Stiles calculatingly. The lawman wants to urge his son to be careful but he knows that Stiles can protect himself. This news is troubling to him, he knows that they haven’t had malevolent forces in Beacon Hills in a long time. Knowing that something potentially evil is back in his peaceful town doesn’t sit well with the sheriff. He’s worked hard to make this town safe and he’ll be damned if it all goes to shit now.

“Can we trust Peter?” His father asks seriously.

“I’m not sure yet but I think so.” Stiles tells his father hesitantly, “Just keep your eyes open for anything weird happening in town. Hopefully, we can figure out what this is before anything bad happens. I’ll go talk to Deaton in the morning and I would feel better if you would wear your protection charms until all this is cleared up.”

Noah nods in understanding, he thinks about the old charms that are sitting in his safe. The necklace with the little runes that Stiles made years ago to help protect him in times of trouble will be necessary while on the job now. He looks to his son and sees the worry in his eyes. Noah knows that Stiles does his fair share to protect the town and keep it healthy. This is the first time something has actually breached his protection and he knows it’s weighing on his son. Stiles has the same fierce urge to protect that his father has.

“It’ll all be alright, son. We’ll figure it out together, we always do.” His father offers him a smile of encouragement, “I want you to stay safe as well, kid. Promise you’ll take care of yourself while you’re out.”

“I promise, dad.” Stiles smiles. He knows his father has his back and together, they’ll keep the town safe like they always have. 

Though Stiles knows, deep down, that something is about to happen. He feels it in the air and all around him. Something lingering heavy in the air. Something Stiles isn’t sure he can stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope everyone is enjoying this so far! I'm feeling pretty good about this so far and look forward to introducing a new arc!   
> Let me know what you think!


	4. Dianthus

When Stiles was a kid, the others didn’t want to be his friends. He was too. . . _ other-ish _ . Too strange-looking, just too  _ strange. _ Stiles often played alone in the grass, excluded from the other kids. They never felt right around him so they didn’t want to be around him. They knew subconsciously that something was different about Stiles and that inspired fear.  Stiles never understood why no one wanted to be his friend. Especially since he thought his magic was so cool (even though he couldn’t show the other kids). He thought he was cool. 

They couldn’t see Stiles’ gentle soul. They couldn’t see his glowing heart. They didn’t understand Stiles’ nature. Children pick up on the most basic emotions and feelings, they can sense what most adults cannot and they know when something is strange. Stiles was strange to them. So it only took one kid avoiding Stiles to get the rest of them to do that. 

So Stiles hung out by himself. Until Scott came along. Scott didn’t think of Stiles as strange. Scott didn’t think Stiles’ other-ness was strange and he wanted to be Stiles’ friend. Scott was Stiles’ only friend. When Stiles was younger, he had days when that fact was sad and others where it wasn’t. Most days, Stiles was happy just with Scott and his animal friends. All of nature is Stiles’ friend so as he grew older he felt less and less sad. 

Of course, sometimes Stiles would encounter one of his peers that still treated him like they did when they were kids. There aren’t many people who stayed behind in their little town. Most of his peers left when they could and only came back for breaks or for holidays. No one really wanted to stay in this little town. Which Stiles thought was a shame because Beacon Hills really is so beautiful. Stiles doesn’t think too much when one of his peers snubs his greeting. He doesn’t think too much of it when they whisper when they think he can’t hear them. He pays no mind anymore. He knows what he’s all about and that’s all that matters. 

Stiles heads to Deaton’s in the morning after having seen the Nemeton in bad shape. Some people stop and wave hello to him, the older people in town that buy much of his products. He smiles back and kindly says a hello. He’s in a hurry as he’s got to see his father for lunch so he moves on quickly to the vet’s office. It’s a sunny Wednesday morning and traffic around town is moving. People are getting to work or running errands. The town is filled with activity. Just like the vet’s office. There are people sitting in awkward chairs and Stiles suddenly feels like he’s inconveniencing them and the doctor. He goes to the receptionist to ask for a time he might be able to speak to Deaton when the doctor emerges from one of the exam rooms and sees him.

“Stiles,” The doctor says plainly, “What a surprise. Is something the matter?” Stiles has a feeling that the druid knows exactly what’s wrong and is only asking for the sake of their witnesses.

“Oh no, I just needed to speak with you but you’re busy so I can-”

“Nonsense. Come to my office, it’ll only take a moment.” Deaton motions for him to follow and Stiles obeys. Once inside the office, Stiles feels the doctor’s wards activate and knows he’s in a ‘cone of silence’. 

“The Nemeton was injured by something, I’m not sure what.” Stiles tells the doc quickly, “It had claw marks running down the trunk and there was pervasive magic in the soil. Something rotten had gotten to it and injured it so much that it wilted, split the tree in half almost, and the roots were damaged.”

“My wards around the town were tripped by an unknown entity yesterday as well. Something crossed into Hale territory and it’s not a small threat.” Deaton tells him, “I couldn’t tell for sure what it was but I have a few ideas.”

“Peter Hale is looking into it as well.” Stiles tells the druid. Deaton’s eyebrows rise marginally in surprise and Stiles thinks it’s news to him.

“I heard rumors but I wasn’t sure until now.” Deaton rubs his head in thought, “Peter will be a good ally in this. He’s certainly very knowledgeable. I’ll get in contact with him.”

“Good, I think until we really know what this is, we need to tread lightly. Nothing bad has happened since it’s gotten to town but I don’t want to push this thing into flipping its switch.” Stiles’ arms flailed his arms in emphasis of what he’s trying to convey, this urgency for the discovery of this evil entity isn’t lost on Deaton in the slightest. He gives Stiles an understanding nod.

“Understood.” Deaton says, “There is one other matter I would like to discuss with you.” He gives Stiles a look that the fae knows exactly what it means. Deaton is going to ask for an animal related favor. He’s asked Stiles many times for these favors and Stiles can see it coming a mile away.

“Oh no. . .” Stiles shakes his head, “I already know what you’re going to ask and I can’t. Deaton, my dad will kill me if I bring home any other animals.”

“This is important, Stiles, and they won’t be in your care longer than they have to, I promise you.” Deat assures him. “I have a litter of four puppies that lost their mother and they’re only a few days maybe a week old.”

Deaton knows that Stiles is going to fold, he knows that the half-fae can’t resist any creature in need. Especially an animal. Deaton only has to apply a little bit of pressure because he knows he’s going to fold. Stiles tries to hold fast but. . . _ puppies? _

“What. . .what uh. . .what happened to their mother?” Stiles asks, eyes cast to the ground and a quiet voice.

“She was hit by a car. She was a stray and hand the litter in the old abandoned mill on the other side of town.” Deaton lays the pathos on thick, “Their eyes aren’t open and the one who hit the mother found the pups not far off and brought them all in.”

Stiles is silent for a moment, feeling utter sorrow for the orphaned pups. He knows April would love to have some puppies around and she would no doubt take care of them. He thinks about the time he brought home Uno, his one-eyed cat, as a kitten. Uno had been a foster pet that Deaton asked Stiles to take care of too as the little black kitten healed from his eye being infected and needing to be removed. Stiles couldn’t ignore the poor creature’s little mewls. Stiles also thinks about April, who had been abandoned by an abusive owner that bought her from a puppy mill and wanted to use her as a guard dog but was incredibly disappointed to learn of her compassionate and gentle nature. Stiles also think about two of his rabbits that had also been abandoned on Deaton’s doorstep with no fur from a terrible case of mange. 

The lesson here is that Stiles has the habit of keeping the animals that Deaton gives him to foster. So he’s hesitant to take in  _ four _ puppies. He knows his father will be absolutely  _ livid _ if he brings in any more animals. He got lucky with Vixen because she takes care of herself and doesn’t need the space that all the other animals do. 

_ But puppies. . . _

“Fine.” Stiles groans, “I’ll take them.”

Deaton grins to himself and pats himself on the back for knowing that Stiles would give in to this request. Stiles loves animals and he knows that he’s going to take good care of the pups up till when they’re ready to be adopted into good homes. 

“I’ll even sweeten the deal, you take the pups and you can keep the money  from the adoptions.” Deaton tells him with a happy grin, “I’ll even give them their first vaccinations for free. How about that?”

“Alright,” Stiles rolls his eyes, knowing that he’s doing a greater favor for Deaton than Deaton is for him. “Can I take them right now?”

“I’ll have my assistant pack them up with some formula and you can take them.” Deaton tells him. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes and tries to deny the excitement that he has deep in his belly.  _ Dad’s gonna hate this _ . . .he thinks to himself. Though he knows that his father has a marshmallowy center and when he sees the puppies he’ll be upset for maybe a second before melting. 

Deaton takes him to the back where the puppies are and instructs his assistant, Jan, to get the pups going. It’s a quick affair and Stiles uses some of his magic subtly to help take away some of the pain the animals in kennels are experiencing. They quiet down immediately and soak up all the healing energy Stiles emits. Jan, a short, stocky woman looks at him and chuckles.

“I don’t know what it is about you, Stiles, but every time you’re in here, the animals just seem to calm down.” She chuckles, “I wish I knew your secret.”

“I guess I just have a way with animals.” Stiles laughs nonchalantly. She hands him a carrier filled with little multi-colored yipping pups and a bag with supplies.

“You know what to do?” She asks him.

“You know I do.” Stiles gives her a cocky grin. Jan rolls her eyes and shoos him out of the kennels. The pups squeak in the carrier and Stiles feels their confusion, their fear and panic. He feels their sorrow for having lost their mother. Stiles knows that pain. The fae envelops them in the warmth of his calming magic and their sadness wanes. They know that they’re safe and they’re going to be taken care of. 

“Alright, little ones. Let’s get y’all home.” Stiles murmurs to them. He places them gently in the passenger seat. He places his jacket over their carrier so they can sleep. He thinks for a moment how he’s going to make this work. He’s got plenty of pet beds that these little ones can sleep in and it’s not like he sleeps so he’ll be able to take care of them. He's only worried now for what’s happening in town. 

It’s a short drive back home and by the time he pulls in, he becomes painfully aware of how hungry he is. April comes bounding out of the house and barks at the mysterious carrier that her friend is carrying. 

“I got a couple surprises, girl.” Stiles laughs, “Let’s get them taken care of before we play with em’, alright?” 

April practically nipped at his heels as he walked up the steps of their porch and into the house. He knows better than to set up the pups in the living room, he instead, brings an old dog bed of April’s from when she was younger, into his room and places a warm blanket inside its borders. Next are the pups. He handles each one with care, gently reaching into the carrier and pulling them out one by one. There are two, pure white pups, both boys. He lays them down side by side and April snips at them curiously. One is a tan speckled pup, and the last is almost entirely covered in tan spots. A boy and a girl. It’s easy to tell that these pups are a heeler mix, muts for sure. 

“Alright you guys,” Stiles whispers comfortingly, “Just a little bit of formula then another nap, I think. April will keep you four safe while I go visit the Nemeton.”

He continues to talk to them in a soothing, quiet tone as he fills a bowl with formula. His magic circles around them in a warm glow. It flows into the formula to fortify its nutrients. He pipettes the milk into each pup’s waiting mouth. He cooes to them, laughing at their little noises. April lays beside him and curls around the pup’s bed, enveloping the whole thing with her body. She nudges the little bodies with her nose to get them comfortable and to give them some contact. When Stiles places the last pup inside her protective circle, she lays her massive head in the bed, sniffing each little bean. Stiles smiles at her protective nature and pats her head.

“Alright, girl.” Stiles whispers, knowing that the pups are falling asleep now, “I’m going to go visit our friend again. Keep the pups safe.”

April wines at him but lets him leave. He grabs himself a smoothie from the fridge and his snack bag before heading out of the house and into the yard. Vixen is laying in the sun outside the garden gates, sunning herself. The fox looks up when she hears him coming and chitters a hello. 

“Hey, beautiful.” Stiles greets her, “You wanna come with me to see the Nemeton?”

The fox stretches leisurely before following him out of his yard and into the forest on a well-traveled path. Stiles recounts to her how he’s recently acquired four small pups. How he thinks Deaton is using him for his fostering abilities. He asks Vixen what she’s been up to as he sips on his smoothie. The fox emits a happy emotion and slight irritation, Stiles knows that it’s towards the rabbits he houses. They’ve been trying to get into his garden, he knows, but she’s been guarding it really well. His carrots haven’t been pillaged lately so Stiles is very grateful to her. The fox darts in between the trees searching for prey, she’s hungry and on the hunt.

“Don’t go too far, Vixen, I won’t be long.” Stiles tells her as he walks into the trees lining the clearing that is home to the Nemeton. 

The great tree thrums with excitement as Stiles walks into its sights. He smiles and says hello, feeling the soil beneath his feet. It’s almost clear of the negative energy and all that’s left of her fateful encounter with the malevolent being that tore her to shreds is just a thin scar on her trunk. There’s a playful aura surrounding her today.

“Feelin’ better, huh?” Stiles chuckles. He puts a gentle hand on her trunk and feeds her some magic, “That’s good. You’re almost completely back to normal.”

The tree wraps its metaphysical arms around him and embraces Stiles. The dear tree absorbs his magic greedily and leaves him feeling a little drained. Not to the point of weakness, but to the point of peckishness. Stiles reaches into his snack bag and takes out a block of chocolate and peanut butter. He takes a seat in the lush grass at the base of the tree. He sees Vixen enter the clearing and sees she’s caught her own snack. The tree luxuriates in the healing session, only jumping in excitement when she feels another familiar energy coming her way. Both Vixen and Stiles turn their head to see Peter come into the clearing with a smirk on his face. The older werewolf had been out for a run and is currently shirtless, with beads of sweat over his torso, headphones hanging from his neck. Stiles tries not to focus on the rippling muscles and glossy appearance of the undeniably attractive specimen in front of him.

_ I’m human too. . .well, sort of. _ Stiles excuses in his mind. 

“And how are you today, Stiles?” Peter asks, plopping down on the grass with him.

“Fine, how are you?” Stiles’ voice is shamefully high. He goes back to stuffing peanut butter in his mouth to avoid speaking. Peter feels amusement at the other man’s bashfulness.

“Fine.” Peter nods. He stretches out his legs on the ground in front of Stiles. The two sit in comfortable silence while Stiles side-eyes Peter as he sips on a bottle of orange juice. “Is there a reason you’re consuming mass quantities of sugar?” 

“My magic takes a toll after a bit, sugar helps to recharge the battery,” Stiles tells him as he places another chunk of chocolate in his mouth. Peter nods in understanding and adds this new detail to his ever-growing list of speculation to what Stiles is. It narrows the list down even further.

“The Nemeton seems much stronger.” Peter remarks, “You healed her.”

“It’s my job, I guess.” Stiles shrugs, “I think that-” He’s interrupted by his phone ringing and he gives Peter an apologetic look before answering, “Hey dad-”

_ “Stiles. Today I walked into the house, tired and worn out from a double shift at the station and I saw puppies. Four of them. Four puppies, Stiles!”  _ His father interrupts him with shouting, angry tone,  _ “I told you no more animals!” _

“Dad, I know, I know. Deaton asked me to foster the pups until they can be adopted so I took them in.” Stiles tells his father calmly. “I swear I’m not keeping the little fuzzballs.”

_ “Stiles. . .I swear. . .” _ His father says exasperatedly.

“I promise, dad.” Stiles says again. The sheriff sighs but relents.

_ “Alright, son. I’ll hold you to that.”  _ Noah says tiredly,  _ “I’m exhausted, I’m going to take a nap then maybe grill something up for dinner. Will you be home soon?” _

“I’ll be home in two hours for dinner. I’ll see you then, pops.” Stiles hangs up and tucks his phone away. Peter looks at him with an amused grin.

“I take it you took in more helpless creatures.” Peter laughs.

“Deaton asked me to take in a couple pups that lost their mother.” Stiles nods, “Speaking of Deaton. He said he would look into whatever has managed to make its way into our town.”

“Yes, he called me not too long ago with some leads. We’re going to be checking them out together. Two heads are better than one and all that.” Peter shrugs as if it’s no matter.

“What do you two know so far?” Stiles asks.

“Well, we’ve got a few ideas but really only one hits all the marks.” Peter says, “And you’re not going to like it.”

“Oh Gods.” Stiles groans, preparing himself for the news.

“We think it’s one of three options: a rogue werewolf, a revenant, and or a ghoul.” Peter says. He runs his hand through his hair frustratedly.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Stiles sighs.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Peter’s face settled into a tight frown, “Given the fact that I can’t really smell the wolf, I think we’re dealing more with a revenant or a ghoul. . . .possibly a necromancer.”

Stiles’ eyes widen with surprise and he sits back, an upset look graces his face. He tries to remember if someone new has come to town but comes up empty. There hasn’t been any new buzz around about a newcomer and now Stiles needs to hunt down a damn necromancer? One that’s already risen a malevolent spirit, for that matter. Stiles isn’t trained like this. His magic is healing magic, he’s not sure that he’ll be the one to kill the being but he will be the one to purify the land after it’s put to rest once again.

“What makes Deaton think there’s a necromancer in town?” Stiles asks the werewolf. Vixen takes that moment to lay down at Stiles’ side. She curls into a little ball and places her head on Stiles’ leg, offering comfort for her tense and upset friend. Stiles huffs out a laugh and scratches behind her ear in thanks.

“He found an altar in an unmarked graveyard not too far from here, the ground is permeated with black magic and one grave had been dug up. The necromancer that helped the spirit return took the body to keep someone from stopping them. He says he’s purged the land as best he could and the marks he found are indicative of a dark necromancer.” Peter explains, watching the boy with his fox. “So now we have two things to worry about.”

“Agreed.” Stiles groans, “This revenant has been reanimated for a few days now and hasn’t done anything. . .it hasn’t killed. . .” 

“No, it seems that there is a different plan in the works.” Peter surmises, “I have a feeling that it won’t be good, either way. Deaton is working on tracking the necromancer down and until the revenant shows itself and reveals a pattern, it’ll be damn near impossible to track it down.”

“So we’re just going to play a waiting game then?” Stiles asks rather unenthusiastically. “That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Peter nods, “However, we don’t have another option.”

“Is there anything we  _ can _ do?” Stiles asks out loud, he thinks about what he knows about revenants but comes up short. He’ll have to research.

“We can prepare. Revenants aren’t only evil spirits that haunt, they’re also used to spread illness and decay. It could have already begun spreading sickness in this town.” Peter tells him. Stiles nods in understanding and tries to think of what he could possibly do to protect his town. Wards won’t do anything now that the danger is already here and the necromancer is already at a level that can’t be stopped by mere incantations now that the being has already been unleashed.”

“No, not until we can find them and get rid of the corpse.” Stiles sighs, “Alright. I’ll be needing to set upwards at the house then. I should get back and explain all this to my father. He’s going to want to hear it. Not to mention, it’s getting dark. I don’t want to be out while the revenant is still about.”

“Yes, I can agree to that.” Peter nods, getting to his feet. He sees the golden sparks of Stiles’ power begin to fade and he feels the power dissipate from the air. His wolf if both calmed and still on edge, it’s a contradiction and he thinks that his own mind is complicating the situation. He himself, set apart from his wolf, is wary of the power Stiles emits so easily. His wolf is calmed by Stiles’ energy, much to his own chagrin.

“I bid you goodbye then, Stiles. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.” Peter tells him with a tight-lipped smile before turning to leave.

“Peter!” Stiles calls out, a little too loudly for his liking. He thinks for a moment, not sure why he stopped the werewolf from leaving especially when he feels so strange around him, “DO you uh. . .wanna come to dinner at my place?” 

Peter is caught off guard at the offer and considers it for a moment. His wolf yips in excitement and wants nothing more than to spend the evening with the Stilinskis, especially since the thought of returning to his own cold home to eat by himself sounds entirely too distressing. Though he’s not sure if he really wants to spend more time with Stiles than he has to. So Peter quickly covers his surprised look with his signature cocky smirk and shakes his head. He stomps the part of him that wants to stay by Stiles’ side down.

“Thank you for the tempting offer, but I have work to do tonight,” Peter tells him. 

“Oh- uh. . .sure!” Stiles covers his disappointment well and grabs his things, “I’ll see you around, wolf.”

“I’ll see you around.” Peter chuckles before running off into the woods. Stiles watches the wolf go for a minute, trying not to feel put out. He looks down at his fox and sighs.

“Alright, Vixen, let’s go home.” Stiles turns back to the tree and bids goodbye. She releases her magical fingers from his aura and practically waves goodbye to him. “I think you better stay within the boundaries of the house at night until we get rid of the necromancer, alright? I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” Vixen is saddened by this warning but agrees, feeling his dread at the situation. She knows Stiles is only looking out for her.

Stiles groans loudly, “Dad isn’t going to like this one bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I have loved reading your comments and am absolutely thrilled with all the people reading my story. I feel like I'm getting better and better at this writing thing!   
> Well, it's the end of a long weekend and it's been really nice to just relax but now it's back to the grind! I hope you all have a great week!  
> Let me know what you guys think!


	5. Eschscholzia

_ A pitch black wolf sits in an open meadow, its fur is darker than the night around it, highlighting the creature generously. The only light is the moon and stars but they illuminate the clearing perfectly. There isn’t a cloud in the sky and the crisp green grass sways with the light breeze. The trees speak in the distance, quiet whisperings of gossip that are too unintelligible tonight. The moon is full and the stars are bright. It's a beautiful evening, though the air carries something unknown in its midst. _

_ There’s something peaceful about the scene, there’s something almost magical about it. The wolf sits calmly, alone, and content. It doesn’t move from its position and there’s something about it. . .something mystical. Something important. Though there’s no telling what it is. Suddenly, the air turns sharp and all is still as the wolf’s chin turns upwards and howls. The sound is deafening. It inspires some emotion that is difficult to pinpoint. The howl is long and deep, drawn out and beautiful. Entrancing almost.  _

_ After who knows how long, the wolf’s howl tapers off and comes to a stop. The wolf knows that the other is there. The wolf isn’t threatened. The wolf knew the other was there all along. The other is safe. The wolf has been waiting for the other. It turns its massive head and looks at the other with piercing blue eyes- _

 

Stiles wakes with a start. His heart pounds and a thin sweat covers his body. He was asleep?  _ I don’t sleep. I never sleep. _ Stiles thinks worriedly. Stiles’ kind can get by without sleep. April wakes with him, whining at her distressed friend. Stiles thinks about what he saw, the wolf in the meadow, piercing blue eyes.

Across town, another wakes from the same dream, the wolf. Peter is startled into consciousness when, in the dreamscape, his wolf turns to look at  _ him _ , the  _ other _ . The one he’s been waiting for. His wolf only got a glimpse of glowing amber eyes and flecks of golden magic before the dream was shattered. Though Peter knows exactly who he was dreaming of. He knows exactly what this means. 

Stiles can’t even focus on what the dream means when he just  _ slept _ . He takes a mental check of his body, searching for an ill feeling or something out of place. Then he realizes how he’s managed to sleep. He was exhausted somehow. His magic had practically been siphoned from him but not by a malicious source. No. . .something was terribly wrong and it needed to be remedied so something took his energy to save itself. 

“Something is very wrong.” Stiles tells April. “Watch the pups, I’ll be back.”

He jumps out of his bed and rushes to pull on his shoes and a jacket. It’s still so dark out and his father is asleep in his room after several days of long shifts. He lets his father sleep, choosing to go alone. He sees Vixen pop out of her den to look at him. The red fox is used to being up at night and she felt the cold shift in the air long before her friend woke.

“Keep everyone in the yard, no one steps outside of the wards, okay? Something bad is happening, I can feel it.” He says ominously. He walks out of the backyard, straight down the path to the Nemeton, he feels the trees whisper about the danger. They cry out for help for their fellow tree. Stiles picks up the pace and runs down the path. 

He feels the telltale sign of black magic, putrid magic, begins to encroach on him as he gets closer to the tree. Stiles feels ill the closer he gets, the rage inside him builds and tries to overpower the sickness he feels. It doesn’t work, though they’re both fairly evenly matched. The living beings surrounding the Nemeton are being sucked dry of their life. Stiles’ anger boils over as he enters the clearing to investigate. The dry grass crunches under his footsteps and he feels his gut churn at the scent of rotting wood. The Nemeton is crying, reaching for his healing magic and Stiles wants nothing more than to embrace her and heal her. She's already taken all of his energy but like a child, she's suckling at an empty bottle.

The hooded figure splits her bark with their fingertips stops him from trying to help her. Stiles can’t see the man’s face below the hood, but he can tell that this guy isn’t someone he could beat in a fight. The man is tall and built tough, with massive hands. Stiles is lanky and not a bodybuilder like the man before him. A physical battle is beyond Stiles’ capacity. He tries another route. He summons his magic from the depths of him and reaches out to try and incapacitate the man before him when a spirit appears before him and slaps his magic away as if it were only a fly. The revenant is ghoulish. With long, jagged looking claws from mangled fingers. The gruesome sight is difficult for Stiles to continue to look at, the spirit is in a state of decay that reveals innards and bones, dry black blood drips from almost every orifice. It’s unrecognizable and Stiles can only identify it now as a rotting corpse.

The stench is worse. So much worse. The shreds of clothing that hang from the corpse’s mangled body drip with putrid blood that fills the soil with death. Stiles can feel the soil turning arid and dead. 

And the cold, dead eyes that are barely more than dried husks but glow with black magic. . .they're ugly and peer into Stiles' soul with deadly strength.

“I knew you would come.” The man, the necromancer, says. His voice sends shivers down Stiles’ spine. “No fae can resist the call of their charges dying.” Stiles swallows his fear to speak. The necromancer knows what he is. 

“You’re the one that’s been hurting my friend.” Stiles says as strongly as he can, putting on a brave face. The necromancer chuckles darkly. The spirit it controls growls lowly, wanting to attack but under the control of another, it’s unable to do so.

“You’re messing with powers that you don’t understand.” Stiles grits through his teeth, pushing through the feelings of sickness, “Black magic of the darkest kind. You’ll lose yourself to it and your soul won’t be able to recover from the darkness. Return the spirit to the grave before you lose control.”

The necromancer utters a deep-bellied laugh that sounds like insanity to Stiles and he’s sure that the man is long gone. He’s used too much power and controlled death for too long. His soul is forever darkened by this magic and he’s never going to be able to recover it. He’s doomed to death and decay. It makes Stiles feel sorry for him for a moment before remembering that the man did it to himself. There is no way for Stiles to help him any longer. 

“You _fairies_. . .always trying to help. I don’t need or want your  _ help _ .” The necromancer sneers at Stiles.

“Then what do you want? Why are you doing this?” Stiles asks, buying time.

“I want everyone in this fucking town to  _ die. _ ” Stiles’ breath catches as the man reveals his desire. “And you won’t be able to stop me. Not while I have this. . .”

He reveals a book, bound in what Stiles knows to be human skin. The tattered, burnt edges hold pain and sorrow. They emanate evil at its purest levels and Stiles knows exactly what it is. He’s seen that book but only in pictures. He’s seen it in his studies and he’s heard dark whispers of the tome. 

“Where. . .did you get a Necronomicon?” Stiles whispers, the dread inside him grips his heart and makes him cold. The necromancer’s dark grimoire. The sight of it makes him want to puke. 

“Does it really matter?” He asks as if Stiles’ question was absurd.  _ I guess not _ , Stiles thinks. Though he’d like to know who was going around handing out those cursed books like candy to children. “It’s given me power you wouldn’t believe. . .power that is more than enough to kill you and that damn druid that thinks he’s so slick leaving traps all around to  _ try _ and catch me.”

“Of course, you’re too smart for that.” Stiles remarks sarcastically. He feels like slapping himself as soon as he says it, however, upset that he would even test the necromancer like that. The man only chuckles and it’s like the entire clearing fills with pressure. Stiles feels like his lungs might collapse. 

“Well, I better be going now, I did what I came here to do.” The necromancer says sinisterly, “Enjoy your evening,  _ fairy.” _

Stiles doesn’t like how he says that. He feels dirty and sick, like the decaying monster in front of him. The night air is too pressurized. Stiles gasps for breath but his lungs can’t take in any of the sickly air. He struggles to tug at his magic and in the next moment, the spirit is in front of him, snarling and gasping. Its pale green eyes flow forcefully and Stiles throws up. He can’t keep it down any longer. He feels the sharp stab of fear in his gut as the creature raises its hand to strike him down. Stiles sees his life flash before his eyes and he says goodbye to his father.

Then darkness takes him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I managed to get sick again. This chapter is going to be a short one but never fear, a longer one is on the horizon! I hope you all had a fantastic week and that you'll continue to leave comments on this story!


	6. Fritillaria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm really sorry to have to rush through this chapter but I wanted to give you something after making you wait so long! The last couple of weeks have been absolutely insane. Let me know what you think! Have a happy Valentine's Day everyone!

Peter rushes to the Nemeton, running in the early hours of the morning. The sun hasn’t risen yet and it’s still dark out, but he knows the path like the back of his hand. He sprints to the tree, knowing that something terrible has happened. He can smell the putrid air emanating from the tree across the preserve. The closer he gets to the tree, the harder it is to keep his dinner down. He feels the connection to Stiles dimming and it’s made his wolf restless. It calls out with a strong, angry howl. Peter knows better than to ignore that. 

So here he is, running through the woods as fast as his legs can carry him. He launches into the clearing and sees Stiles on the ground, surrounded by sick, ugly grass. The tree is practically weeping in pain and sadness. Stiles lay there, crumpled in a heap. Besides the younger man laying like a corpse, there is no blood and he isn't visibly injured. Peter goes to him immediately after assessing the clearing and seeing that the younger man’s assailant is long gone. 

“Let’s get you home,” Peter says urgently. He lifts Stiles into his arms and turns to leave before being blindsided by a strong pull from the Nemeton. He turns to the tree and sighs, feeling a strong sense of anxiety from both himself and the tree, “I know you’re hurt, but so is Stiles. Let me take him back to his home so he can rest and as soon as he’s ready we’ll be back to heal you and purge your roots. I swear we’ll be back.”

The pulling sensation is released and Peter thanks the tree, uttering his promise one last time. He takes one last surveying look around the clearing and sees that it’s without any danger. Peter holds onto Stiles tightly even though the scent that Stiles carries makes him want to puke. He knows that Stiles had an encounter with the revenant and the necromancer, the putrid decaying scent of death isn’t shocking to him, only disgusting. 

Peter runs down the path well traveled, he can hear the running footsteps of another animal behind him, he knows it’s a timid little vixen that tends to follow Stiles around so he doesn’t pay much mind to the creature. When he reaches the end of the path at Stiles’ house, he sees a police cruiser outside in the driveway. The sheriff is home. Without hesitation, he walks up the porch, rings the doorbell and waits for Stiles’ father to answer the door. It takes all of one moment for the man’s father to absorb what happened and lets him in without question. Peter isn’t sure why there were no further questions. Perhaps it was the way Peter was holding his son, perhaps it was that equally concerned expression on his face. 

“Lay him on the couch.” The older man says, directing him to a brightly lit sitting room where a comfortable gray couch is located. Peter lays Stiles down gently, “What happened?”

“The necromancer got to him.” Peter answers simply, brushing the stray hairs on Stiles' forehead back with care.

“Given your knowledge on the situation, you must be Peter Hale.” The sheriff sighs exhaustedly. At that moment, Peter can really see the age and worry that has been etched into his skin.

“I am.” The werewolf doesn’t like relinquishing his hold on the younger man but settled for sitting beside him on the sofa with a poor excuse of checking for broken bones to be able to touch him.

“Tell me  _ exactly _ what happened.” The sheriff sits in the recliner across from the pair, watching intently. 

“Stiles’ energy was sucked dry. He’ll be alright, he just needs time to recover.” Peter starts, “I sensed something was wrong, the Nemeton reached out to me when the necromancer began killing her. She called out to me and I went to her. Stiles was already there, passed out but undamaged. The Nemeton had been taking his energy through their bond in order to keep herself alive when the necromancer attacked. He brought his revenant and until Stiles wakes up, I can only imagine what that interaction was like.”

“So he’ll be alright when his strength returns?” The sheriff worries.

“He’ll be quite alright. Physically. Jury is still out on mentally. I’ll wait to judge that until he wakes up and we can talk to him about what happened with the revenant.” Peter speculates. He watches the young man’s relaxed face, thinking about what he could be dreaming of.

“Why didn’t the necromancer do more than just take his energy? Stiles was vulnerable, why didn’t he finish the job?” The sheriff can’t take his eyes off his son’s dirty, smelly body. The questions he asks leaves a horrid taste in his mouth, but he needs to know. He needs to speculate to gather as much information on this guy to build a profile. 

“Best guess? He has bigger plans and leaving Stiles alive for the moment wasn’t going to stop him in the long run.” Peter thinks. The wolf watches Stiles as he turns slightly, lip purses and his eyebrows scrunch in his sleep. 

“So this is just the beginning?” The Sheriff groans, sitting back in the recliner, running his hand angrily through his hair, “And Stiles just walked out there with no backup, no reinforcement, and no help. Goddamnit.”

“He is too brave for his own good,” Peter confirms, not taking his eyes off the young man, “And I’m afraid that Stiles is only just beginning to feel the hurt in this situation. I can’t imagine this is going to resolve itself easily. We’ll need to begin planning this out. 

“I’m going to call Scott.” The good sheriff stands and practically stomps into the kitchen.

“Who is Scott?” Peter asks curiously.

“Our Alpha.” The sheriff answers gruffly. Peter’s blood runs cold in that instant. 

This is Hale land and he knew there was another Alpha, a true Alpha, protecting he land while his family had fled. He knew that this true Alpha had done an amazing job, his pack, the Beacon Hills pack, had kept the territory safe and Peter didn’t begrudge him that. Though realizing that Stiles and his father are part of that pack is another story. It’s just another hurtle for him. Peter never needed to reach out to the Alpha to come back to Beacon Hills because of his history and link to the land. His homecoming will have been news to Scott and Peter isn’t entirely sure how that news is going to be recieved. 

Peter’s experience with Alphas has never been the best. He knows them to be aggressive, A type personalities with a pension for fierce protectiveness over what they beleive to be theirs. Stiles is Scott’s. Peter won’t get between the two despite his growing admiration for the younger man. 

Easier said than done.

Peter stands, reluctantly giving up his nearness to Stiles. He makes his way towards the door to leave when Noah sees that Peter is trying to creep out silently. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Noah asks with a phone pressed against his ear.

“I wasn’t aware you and your son had an Alpha.” Peter says awkwardly from the doorway, desperately wishing to make his escape.

“Yes, and?” Noah asks expectantly.

“Alphas don’t take too kindly to unknown wolves fraternizing with their betas.” Peter says grimly. Noah looks at Peter then,  _ really _ looks at him and doesn’t like the hurt and fear that is lying just beneath the surface. Noah can see the PTSD a mile away. 

“Scott isn’t like most Alphas.” Noah says gently, “Stay a while, make sure that Stiles is okay and I’ll tell Scott you’re here.”

Peter doesn’t argue, he’s not all that sure that he could argue with the man. So he just remains silent, accepting that the sheriff isn’t going to let him leave. He takes a seat in the kitchen, accepting a cup of coffee that Noah offers him.

“Hi, Scott.” The man chuckles lightly, “I’m good, kiddo. Actually, another big bad has wandered into town and they’re causing issues. A necromancer, I guess, but Stiles is-”

_ “What’s wrong with Stiles?”  _ The Alpha, Scott’s concerned voice carries through the reciever.

“Well, he had a run in with the necromancer. He’s alright,” Noah assures him, “He’s just recuperating right now, but we could probably use a pack gathering to help take this guy down.”

“ _ I’ll call the pack together right now. I’m going to pack and then I’ll be on my way.” _ Scott sounds determined, and the subvocal growl that Peter picks up through the reciever makes a shiver run down Peter’s spine.

“Alright, drive safe. Let everyone know that they can stay here if they need to.” Noah tells his Alpha.

_ “Thanks, Noah. I’ll be there in a few hours tops.” _ The Alpha hangs up then, and Noah has a small smile on his face.

“He was bitten when the boys were in sophomore year of high school. They’ve known each other for much longer, however. They’re practically brothers.” Noah chuckles, “Scott’s a true Alpha, and when he was bitten, Stiles revealed what he was to him. Together, they helped him gain control and slowly grew their pack. It was dangerous here in this town for a while, but the pack worked together and got rid of every threat.”

“They were so young.” Peter murmers.

“Yeah, they’ve all been through a lot. With the Nemeton here, it’s like a damn magnet for supernatural activity.” Noah sits next to Peter, “I worry about Stiles. He’s strong, he’s really strong, but sometimes these other creatures can get the better of him. It doesn’t happen often, but then again, the stronger threats are the ones that can push past the warding.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking. . .what is Stiles?” Peter asks. The sheriff chuckles and grins.

“You haven’t figured it out?” He asks, “He’s fiarly rare so I’m not really surprised. . .He’s half fae.” 

Peter’s eyes widen and he realizes just how unique Stiles is. He understands now why he was so wary of the boy. He is strong, his lineage makes him so. The degree to which his magic is able to opperate, he’s much higher up on the magical hierarchy. Even being half-fae.

“Tell me, Peter Hale. What’s your story?” The sheriff asks curiously. He watches the wolf’s tense body shift awkwardly.

“Not much of a story.” Peter shrugs, reluctant to share anything, even to a man who has nothing to gain from learning about his past.

“I would beg to differ.” The sheriff’s eyes squint and thin to a critical look, “Peter Hale. You know, I was a deputy when the fire happened. Now, don’t get so guarded, not many people know about what happened let alone make the connection.”

“But you have,” Peter remarks accusingly. The sheriff understands and doesn’t take it personally. He sees the pain, he remembers the sorrow and hurt from that night and he remembers Peter being carted off to the hospital after being burned so badly. He remembers that night vividly.

“I’m no stranger to pain inflicted by others,” The sheriff says ominously, but the haunted look and the set grimace on his face inclines Peter to think that the man really does understand, “All I’m saying, Peter, is that you’ve got a story and I know it, up until recently. And I’m trying to figure out if I can trust you and if I can bring you into the fold with the pack.”

“You can’t.” Peter says simply, with a gaze of cold steel that the sheriff isn’t sure he likes. It’s so different from the gaze he gave his son, another topic that Noah is sure he’s going to be thinking about later. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.”


	7. Gahda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and input! I hope you like this chapter! Let me know what you like and what you want to see! Have a great weekend, everyone!

Stiles sits at the base of the Nemeton with the sun shining on his face. It’s a quiet afternoon and he feels much better, being out of the house. It’s been three days since his encounter with the Necromancer and his pet revenant. Three days of constant pack time. This is the first he’s managed to escape his clamoring overprotective pack. He managed to weasel out of another pack oriented afternoon. They’re off helping Lydia shop for a new bedset apparently. Stiles isn’t sure if he would rather his wisdom teeth be pulled out of his head or if he’d rather go shopping with Lydia. 

No, at the moment, he’d rather sink into the grass he sits on and become one with the Earth. The Nemeton is wrapped tightly around him and he’s tired. Her tendrils hold tightly to his soul and he feels like he could really sink into the Earth. He closes his eyes and basks in the sunlight that coats his skin. He feels the grass licking his skin, the seeds buried deep beneath the ground spring to life as his magic seeps into the land. He can feel the small sprouts of dandelions curling against his skin. The birds chirping in the distance are the only sound that fills the air, a peaceful lullaby. Certainly the best conditions for a nap.

He hears the grass crunch in the distance. 

“Sunbathing, I see.” Peter’s voice is soft and careful. The wolf came into the familiar clearing seeing Stiles, resting in the sun under the Nemeton, his magic floating about him and around the tree, there are light colored golden flowers sprouting that seem to be hugging the man. It’s enchanting to say the least.

“‘S warm,” Stiles says lethargically. The magic that is seeping out of him at this point is so potent that he’s losing energy, not so much that feels sick, but rather like he’s just eaten a large meal and intends to sleep it off. Peter huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes in fondness for the younger man, “‘C’mere.”

Stiles becomes the man closer and Peter can’t help but oblige. It’s been several days since the werewolf has seen him, opting to stay far away from the younger man while his Alpha is in town. His wolf yearns to be closer to the fae. Peter sits beside Stiles and is startled only for a moment when Stiles manages to pry himself off the ground enough to lay back into Peter’s lap. The wolf’s eyes widen and soften just as quickly. 

“Cuddly little thing, aren’t you?” Peter jokes.

“Shhhh.” Stiles grouches, not bothering to open his eyes but settles in comfortably in Peter’s lap, happy to finally scent Peter’s cologne yet again. Peter strokes Stiles’ chestnut hair and smiles at the man’s pouting expression. He doesn’t like how Stiles smells so much like Scott or these unknown wolves, but he understands that it’s their pack, not his. 

Stiles missed Peter.

Peter missed Stiles. 

Neither quite knows how to make it more than a few days without the other. Stiles doesn’t understand why Peter has been so distant, but he’s happy to have him as a pillow now. The afternoon passes by in a blur, Stiles is powered down for the most of it, but Peter is awake and he counts the freckles and moles on Stiles’ sleeping face. He’s perfectly content to sit there in the warm sun with a cool breeze brushing his face. It’s peaceful, a far cry from just a few days ago when everything around them had been dead. 

The trees that were cracked and withered were now lush and full again, the sickly, dead grass is now alive again. It looks like a forest once more. The ring of decay and death surrounding the Nemeton is gone now and Peter knows that all of this is because of Stiles. Stiles gave his magic, his life force once more to heal this place. Peter can’t help but admire Stiles for what he’s done for the forest. Stiles has, more than once, given all he has to heal and strengthen the land. He sees Stiles’ selflessness in all that the man does.

Even now he feels the Nemeton wrap her arms around them and hold the two of them close to her heart. Peter sees the grass and the flowers that have sprung to life under Stiles’ influence are curling against him as if they’re trying to hug him. Peter sees the way that nature bends to be around Stiles. It’s awe-inspiring to say the least. So Peter is perfectly content to sit with this fae in his lap, luxuriating in the calm of the afternoon. 

His wolf seems to settle in and drowsiness takes over, his wolf snuggles in for a long nap and Peter can’t seem to fight the urge to sleep. When he finally gives in and closes his eyes, the serene atmosphere closes in on him and in moments, he’s completely dead to the world. 

. . .

“Peter,” Stiles’ voice sing-songs through the darkness. The dreamless sleep the wold succumbed to is now shattering and Peter’s eyes fly open and he’s alert in the next moment, pulling Stiles close to his chest with a startled gasp. 

Stiles hadn’t expected to wake from his nap in Peter’s very comfortable lap. He certainly hadn’t expected to have had one of the best, most restful naps he’s ever had in that position. It had taken him a full twenty minutes to finally manage to pull away from the wolf, only to spend another twenty minutes simply taking in the resting predator’s sleeping face. Peter in a state of vulnerability startled him at first, but he quickly got used to the idea and started to really enjoy seeing Peter like that. He knew he had to wake the wolf, however, and he wasn’t expecting to be cuddled so aggressively. 

“Woah, cuddlewolf!” Stiles chuckles, “It’s just me, we slept for a few hours, it’s almost dinner time.”

It takes Peter a moment to figure out that the two of them are safe. He can feel the light amusement coming from the Nemeton and he scowls at the tree as if to shame it for judging him. Peter settles back down finally and takes a look at his watch. It’s almost sunset. He should be getting home.

“Your pack is most likely waiting for your return. I guess we ought to head on home.” Peter sighs, gets to his feet and shakes off the dirt. He offers a hand to Stiles and helps the younger man up. 

“Why don’t you come over for dinner?” Stiles suggests hopefully. Peter’s wolf growls at the prospect of meeting Stiles’ Alpha, the man who can actually have Stiles in any capacity. It makes his wolf rear in jealousy. 

“I don’t think that would be a wise decision, sweetheart.” Peter scoffs, feigning indifference.

“Why not?” Stiles’ eyebrows come down in a confused expression. “My pack is pretty chill, plus, I’ve talked about you so much they all want to meet you.” Peter’s eyes widen in surprise but only for a moment before he schools himself. 

“I don’t know-”

“Peter,” Stiles interrupts him, putting up his hand in firm instance, “I insist.”

The wolf has no option, seeing that he’s not going to get out of dinner that easily. There go any hope of separating himself from Stiles or his pack. He nods and follows Stiles down the familiar pathway closely.

“How is your pack?” Peter asks.

“Fine, they’re all grown up. I feel like each time I see them they grow up a little more and more. It’s like seeing a bunch of adults now.” Stiles chuckles, “Sometimes I still expect us to be going to the Jungle on Friday nights and fighting bad guys on Saturdays then homework on Sundays.”

“Were things so bad?” Stiles scoffs at Peter’s question, thinking about the horribleness that they had to face. 

“No offense, but when your family deserted this town, it left a festering wound.” Stiles tells him, “There were wolves, vampires, rogue hunters, and demons. There were myths and legends that plagued this town, almost ripped it to shreds.”

“It wasn’t my idea to leave.” Peter points out. Despite what happened and all the pain he endured in this town, he knew it wasn’t  _ because _ of this town, it was because of a psychotic hunter. He doesn’t hold his pain against this town. Stiles looks at Peter with a sad expression, wishing he knew what the older man had gone through with his remaining pack to make him so closed off.

“I know,” Stiles gives Peter a small, understanding smile, “It’s not your fault. No one in the pack has ever blamed the Hale family for what happened.”

They remain silent for a good portion of the walk back to the Stilinski household, Peter’s not quite sure what to say to that, finally, he settles on changing the subject.

“I saw that you’re expanding your beehives,” Peter rejoices in the bright smile Stiles flashes him at the mention of his bees.

“Yeah! Well, the hive is doing so well and I noticed that there are a few queen cells growing. They’re cooking up new queens and I thought that it would be good to use my magic to nurture one of them and make a whole new hive.” Stiles grins brilliantly, “I’ll have even  _ more _ honey to sell at the market and I’ll be able to put the hive in an orchard across town.”

“Have you ever thought about buying your own land to farm?” Peter asks. He loves the way Stiles lights up when he talks about the new life he’s creating and all the good he’s bringing into the world.

“Yeah, I love living at home but I do wish I had more space. I don’t want my dad to live alone, though and I’ve built such a huge thing in my backyard that I just don’t know if I could leave it.” Stiles says with a small frown. Peter thinks deeply about this conflict. He knows that Stiles could hardly bear to leave his own little homestead, honestly, he understands. Having built something and put so much energy into it, Peter knows he wouldn’t want to leave one of his projects either.

“How are the pups?” Peter inquires. 

“They’re great, growing perfectly. Just a few more weeks and they’ll be ready to go to their forever home.” Stiles chuckles. Peter likes the small smile playing at the younger man’s lips.

“You’re not going to keep any?” Peter jokes.

“Oh no, my dad would be murderous!” Stiles laughs a deep-bellied laugh. Peter likes that laugh, “How about you? In the mood for a puppy?”

“I don’t think I’m in any position to care for another living being,” Peter answers with angst coating his tone.

“And why the hell not?” Stiles stops, puts his hands on his hips in an almost comical fashion and stares at Peter expectantly. Stiles doesn't like that Peter talks ill of himself.

“Stiles, I can hardly look after myself let alone anyone or anything else that matters to me.” Is all Peter says. He continues down the path with Stiles behind him, still standing in place. Stiles thinks that is absolutely outrageous. He marches up to Peter and wraps a hand around Peter’s bicep, stopping the wolf from storming off. The determined look on his face makes Peter shut up.

“Peter Hale, don’t you forget for a moment that I can see who you are. I can see the aura surrounding you and I can definitely  _ see _ the parts of you that you’re so determined to hide.” Stiles says with a deep, authoritative tone, “You are  _ not _ evil and you most certainly are  _ not _ hazardous to anyone that gets close to you.”

Peter nods, it’s all he can do. Stiles’ eyes blaze a fiery amber, striking him to his very soul. Those eyes look deep into his soul and it feels as if he’s being laid completely bare. Stiles does see who he is and he knows he’s a fool to say otherwise or deny what the fairy is saying now. Peter is no fool. Stiles likes that about him.

“Now, let’s get home before Scott sends the cavalry.” And just like that, Stiles is back to a young, unassuming stature. 

The wolf follows the fairy into his house where he could hear the voices of several strangers. His wolf is frantic, unsettled and it’s ready to snarl. Stiles puts a comforting, guiding hand on his shoulder and squeezes. Upon entering the house, Stiles is swarmed by three wolves, all of them sniffing after him, hugging him and scent marking him.

“Where were you? We were worried, you were gone for too long.” One with curly blonde hair asks against the nape of Stiles’ neck.

“I’m fine,” Stiles laughs, “The Nemeton was just extra needy today and I fell asleep against her trunk.”

“That’s dangerous, Stiles. You were alone.” Another wolf, a blonde girl grouches against the Stiles’ back.

“I was fine, Peter was there too and he wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to me,” Stiles pulls them into a big hug and scents them in return, “Now get off you puppies. I’m starved.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” A woman with flaming locks of strawberry red hair walks in with a hot cup of tea in her hand. She cocks her hip out and places a perfectly manicured hand on it, scowling at Peter as she sizes him up. Peter is unrelenting in his gaze and doesn’t back down from her challenge. Lydia can admire that. “Melissa is in the kitchen with your dad. She made you a smoothie.”

Stiles’ eyes widen in desire as he rushes off into the kitchen leaving Peter to fend for himself in favor of Melissa’s amazing tropical smoothies. The wolves turn on Peter in an instant when their friend leaves the room and scrutinizes all the details of the man. The pack had heard about the Hale family through different people, mainly Deaton. They hadn’t expected much, however, they never thought they’d actually get to meet a Hale because of what happened. The Hale pack was always a cautionary tale to them, no one in the pack strayed too far from each other for fear of slipping up. Everyone knew about Derek Hale and Kate Argent. Allison, Scott’s first love, had confessed her relation to them back in high school when her aunt returned to town to see if it was still wolf free. 

It had been devastating, but no one had thought about blaming Allison. They all loved Allison and they miss her terribly. It’s still a wound that will never heal, their pack bond to her has been severed for a long time now, but it still bleeds.

“You must be Peter.” The redhead says bitingly, “I’m Lydia. I’m a banshee and I’ve been one long enough to know that you don’t mean any ill will to us or to Stiles. However, I sense death, and you sir. . .are surrounded by it.”

“Intriguing to say the least, my dear.” Peter replies icily, “I would expect a deathly aura considering I’ve died twice.” The room falls silent and Peter feels an odd feeling welling up inside him. He’s not quite sure what that feeling is. 

“Yes,” Lydia’s eyes rake over his body, “I can see that.” Just then, Stiles walks back into the room with a large smoothie in his hands and his pink lips wrapped around a straw. Peter’s eyes watch hungrily as the younger man sips his drink.

“Alright you guys, back off.” Stiles chides, “Peter’s here to help, he’s saved my life and taken very good care of me in the past while I was being drained by the Nemeton. He’s a very good wolf and I trust him.”

Stiles vouches for him and instantly, the pack seems to relax and sit back. Their easy smiles all return and it’s as if a perfectly strange wolf hasn’t stepped into their den. Stiles smiles at Peter and the wolf can’t help but marvel at the fairy’s influence in this ragtag group of supernatural beings. This pack is definitely odd.

“Peter,” The sheriff enters the room and offers his hand to the wolf, “It’s good to see you again.” 

“Likewise.” Peter says, “I found your son practically comatose at the base of the Nemeton, sunbathing like a cat. I must admit, I think he needs a guard with him at all times, particularly when he’s so tired like that.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” In walks another wolf, the Alpha. Peter’s wolf bristles at the new, powerful wolf. A true Alpha, nonetheless. His power makes Peter want to run or fight or burst into flames. Being so near to an Alpha spark makes him uneasy. He hides it well though and the only one who notices the man’s hackles rising. “It’s good to finally meet you, I’m Scott.”

“I know.” Peter tries to keep the bite from his tone, “Stiles speaks of you often.”

“All good things I hope.” Scott chuckles. The boy’s easy smile makes Peter’s stomach tighten. “Well, we’re glad you’ve befriended Stiles. If he says he trusts you, that goes a long way with us.” Scott’s words don’t just complement. They threaten as well.

“That’s something we have in common. Trust is a rare thing.” Peter bites back. His piercing blue eyes are like razors and they are ready to cut.

“Well, welcome back to Beacon Hills, we’re glad you’re here, and we hope you stick around for a while.” Scott grins. 

Peter’s not so sure this is what he had in mind when he decided to come back home.


	8. Hypericaceae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm sorry it took me so long! I was so busy and this semester I took on way too much. I'm working on it! I hope you are all still interested in this story and I hope you're having a great day! LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE

“Why are you leaving, again?” Stiles asks Peter as they lounge in his backyard, watching Vixen and April chase the chickens around. Peter looks at Stiles’ troubled expression, his heart hurting once more at the notion of leaving his home.

“You know that I have to see my Alpha at least a few times a year to keep from becoming an Omega.” Peter reminds his friend. A sad smile paints his lips and Stiles doesn’t like that smile. 

“That’s stupid.” Stiles grumbles, “I don’t like how she treats you.” 

Peter chuckles and tries to ignore that bubbling sense of sadness in his gut that eats away at his desperate clinging to his bond with his Alpha. He knows how Laura feels about him. He knows how Laura hates him. He’s known for a long time. 

“I know, but I still have to visit. It’s only for a few days and I’ll be back.” Peter reassures his friend. Stiles shifts from one foot to the other and doesn’t really like the response that Peter gives him. Earlier this week he had listened in on one of Peter’s calls to his Alpha, Laura, and hadn’t liked how utterly spiteful she spoke to Peter.

“She doesn’t know how to treat her Betas. Scott would never talk to one of us like how he talks to you.” Stiles grumps as he picks up Peter’s carry on and places it in the back of the jeep. He’d asked Peter to let him drive him to the airport in Sacramento.

“I know, Stiles.” Peter huffs out in a disgruntled tone. He stares down at his shoes as if they’ve caused him a great offense. Stiles stops then and feels utterly pitiful. Peter has to know how messed up it is that his Alpha is so resentful towards him and Stiles knows that bearing that can’t be easy. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Stiles says consolingly. He walks up to Peter and pulls him into a tight hug and within moments, he hugs Stiles in return, just as tightly. “I just wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I know, sweet boy,” Peter whispers into the younger man’s neck. “I’ll miss you. And Beacon Hills.”

“We’ll miss you too. I’ll be there to pick you up. If you decide to come back early, just call me. If you need  _ anything _ while you’re gone just-”

“Call you. I know.” Peter chuckles, “I will, I promise.”

“Good.” Stiles backs away and taps him lightly on the chest, “Alright, let’s get on the road.” Peter goes around the jeep to hop in the passenger side when Scott runs out of the house.

“Peter!” He calls. The pair halt to see what the Alpha needs and Scott just smiles at them and offers a hand to shake Peter’s, “If you need anything, call me.”

Peter is shocked for a moment. Surprised by the openness and friendliness in his eyes. Over the past few days, he’s been getting closer and hanging out more with Scott and the rest of Stiles’ pack. He’s loved the movie night, bar-b-q, picnic and run they’ve had. He’s loved how everyone loves each other and treats each other like a true pack. It reminds him of when his mother was Alpha. He remembers the feeling of the bonds during that time and that’s certainly not how they feel with Laura in charge. 

“Thank you, Scott. I appreciate it.” Peter says honestly. Scott nods and goes to give Stiles a hug before running back into the Stilinski household. The rest of the pack had said their goodbyes and now with Scott’s blessing, they left for Sacramento. 

The drive is pleasant. Peter can tell that Stiles hates leaving his home but knows that with the pack still in town, nothing bad is going to happen. Stiles drives with one hand on the wheel and he other tapping along to the music on the radio. Peter listens silently to Stiles’ chatter and can’t help but feel a warmth in his belly at the peacefulness of it all. Stiles tries to drive slowly but he knows that Peter needs to be at the airport so he can’t delay it more than he already has. He hates that Peter is leaving the safety of Beacon Hills. He doesn’t understand why the hell his Alpha wouldn’t just come out and visit Peter instead of the other way around just this once. He doesn’t understand why Peter’s even in that pack. 

Stiles heard Laura yell at Peter and degrade him. He heard his  _ Alpha _ ’s derisive tone. He also knows that he can’t do anything about it. It’s Peter’s Alpha and Stiles is from an outside pack. He has no right to contest another Alpha’s actions. Only Peter could do something about Laura’s actions. So they continue the drive, happy to be in each other’s company. Peter soaks up the attention he’s receiving from Stiles, hating that he’s going to have to give it up. It takes a few hours, but they arrive at the airport and Peter’s mood sours. Stiles finds a place to park and walks with Peter into the airport to say goodbye at check-in. He’s just as happy as Peter is to be saying goodbye. 

“This is as far as I can go,” Stiles sighs unhappily outside the check-in station. He looks at Peter with a sad look in his eyes. Peter can hardly handle the disparaging look in his fae’s eyes. He’s not looking forward to getting on this plane either.

“I won’t be gone long,” Peter assures Stiles. He pulls the younger man into a tight hug and inhales his sharp woodland scent, committing it to memory. “I’ll text you every step of the way if it’ll make you feel better if anything you’ll get sick of me.”

Stiles nods into Peter’s shoulder, “I think that would be best.” 

“Okay, sweetheart.” Peter chuckles, “Take care, I’ll be back before you know it. If anything happens with the necromancer I’ll be on the next plane.”

Stiles reluctantly let go of the wolf and chokes back the emotion he feels clawing up his throat. Peter places a gentle hand on Stiles’ cheek and gives a tight smile before abruptly turning away to get into line. Stiles takes that as his cue to leave. He knows that if he doesn’t go he’s just going to stand there for the next hour with or without Peter. So he huffs it back to the jeep and begins the long drive home.

He definitely doesn’t think about Peter the entire drive back home.

He definitely doesn’t think about a hole he feels in his chest that is mysteriously growing.

He definitely doesn’t think about the bond to Peter that is stretching too thin for his liking.

As Peter goes through check-in and gets into line to pass through metal detectors and pass security dogs, he feels the strain on that sting that connects him to Stiles. He hates the plastic chairs that he sits in while he waits to get on that flying tin can. He hates the stale air, he hates the smells, he hates the noise. So he puts on his noise-canceling headphones and relishes in the dampening of the noises. He rubs a magic salve that is specifically for werewolf noses all over his nostrils. He gets as comfortable as he can in his seat. He flies first class, but he’s still uncomfortable from the pressure around him and the pain he feels at leaving his friends and pseudo pack. 

He definitely doesn’t think about what Stiles is doing right at that moment.

He definitely doesn’t think about his strained bond to Stiles.

He definitely doesn’t think about the dread he feels at having to see Laura again.

Back in Beacon Hills, the pack sets up a den in Stiles’ front living room. There are mattresses, blankets, pillows, and fluffy socks waiting for Stiles. They all know how much Stiles is going to miss Peter and they’re preparing for a night in with plenty of pizza and Tai food for the pack to indulge in. Lydia went to the store to stock up on stacks for Stiles to enjoy, comfort food she called it. They picked out Stiles approved movies and the Sheriff even got the night off to spend time helping his son. 

“Should we maybe talk about  _ why _ Stiles is having such a hard time letting Peter go?” Erica asks, throwing herself into the arms of her fiance, Boyd. The wolf catches her easily and settles her into the crook of his side. 

“I think we all know why, Erica,” Lydia says without looking away from what she is doing at the moment: polishing her nails.

“And why is that?” Kira asks, a little lost. She curls around her stuffed wolf that Scott got her on their third anniversary. 

“Because he’s in love with Peter, duh.” Erica rolls her eyes but she has a fond smile on her hand. “Remember when Boyd had to leave for early enrollment to Standford and he was only gone for a week for orientations and all that but I was so distraught? We were still in the early stages of mating but I was so sad to not have him around.”

“I think we all remember you wandering around like your arm was missing.” Scott teases lightly. If he were being honest with himself, he knows he experienced the same sadness when Kira had to leave for training. She was gone for a whole summer and Scott had sulked every single day.

“They’re mates?” Kira asks almost doubtfully, “You really think that’s what they are to each other?”

“How could they not be?” Lydia chimes in, “Haven’t you watched them together at all? How Stiles will lean a little closer when Peter’s emotions shift towards sadness or resignation even in the slightest? Or how Peter treats Stiles like a china doll?”

“Or the way Peter touches Stiles,” Erica thinks out loud.

“Or how Stiles scents Peter,” Boyd mentions.

“Or how they are always sleeping against trees together.” Isaac walks into the room and says before stuffing a whole slice of pizza in his mouth.

“Holy shit.” Scott’s eyes widen, “You’re totally right. . .they’re in love.”

“So what do we do then? Peter isn’t a part of our pack.” Erica asks with eyes reflecting her resentment toward the Hale Alpha.

“One of them would have to give up their pack and join the other.” Scott scratches the back of his head. “I don’t want to conjoin packs. Laura struck me as very self-centered and angry. I know she lost her whole family and that’s terrible but it’s not Peter’s fault. He doesn’t deserve to be cast to the edges of that pack.”

“Agreed.” Lydia sits back, blowing on her nails, “I’d be happy with Peter in the pack. He’s a good addition. Definitely good Left-Hand material. We need an Enforcer.”

“It would be Peter’s choice if he wants to join the pack.” Scott points out, “I don’t doubt that he would take it given his status in his current pack.”

“We should talk to Stiles about it, I’m sure he’d love to have Peter in the pack,” Eria says knowingly.

“Until then, we’ll just have to help support him and make him feel as happy as possible while Peter is gone.” Lydia nods, “He should be home soon.”

The pack settles in and continues to do their own thing as they await their missing friend. They aren’t aware of the tears that Stiles fights as he feels like something is just so horribly wrong. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he knew exactly what was wrong. So he turned up the radio and tried to drown out the straining bond. 

Of course, when he got home, the fact that his entire pack had basically built a den in his front room was so moving that he couldn’t help but break down just a little. Everyone was far too understanding, however, and they didn’t say anything to their struggling friend. So he settles in and fights the burning tears while his friends begin an easy conversation about the farmers market going on the following morning.

“I finished putting together all the bath bombs so I’m excited to help Stiles sell them tomorrow morning,” Erica remarks, “Finally all my DIY product making knowledge is being put to good use.”

“Your charcoal soap cleared up my skin in high school.” Stiles nods before stuffing another spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream into his mouth.

“Yeah, I loved making soap in high school as lame as that sounds.” Erica chuckles, “Once I finish getting my degree this May, I think I’ll come back to Beacon Hills.”

“I still can’t believe you enjoyed making soap so much. What sixteen-year-old likes making soap?” Isaac teases.

“The cool ones.” Erica says unabashedly.

“I thought you wanted to practice cosmetology in Los Angeles?” Lydia asked. Everyone tunes in to the conversation and listens, it’s the first time anyone has really thought about what they wanted to do in just a few months when they graduate.

“I thought I did, but I don’t want to be in a big city anymore. I’ve learned that I’m not a big city gal.” Erica shrugs. She leans back into Boyd’s arms and smiles happily, “I think I want to come back here and start a salon.” All the girls in the room make excited yelps.

“Finally! Now we won’t have to go two towns over for a good stylist or nail tech.” Lydia exclaims excitedly. “There’s a space in the town square that would make the best salon!”

“Oh the one next to the bakery?” Scott asks.

“Good location, right?” Erica smirks, “It’ll be so good for business.”

“I like that plan,” Stiles nods in agreement.

“I can even sell some of my products at the farmers market too.” Erica grins, “This town is just dying for some cute, high-quality cosmetics.”

“It’ll definitely be an added bonus for when I move back here this summer,” Scott says nonchalantly. Stiles’ jaw drops and he practically bounces on his heels.

“You’re coming back! I thought you were going to grad school!” Stiles exclaims.

“I’m doing it online while I work at Deaton’s clinic, he’s retiring soon and he wants to pass the place on to me.” Scott smiles brilliantly. 

“That’s amazing, Scott,” Boyd remarks. 

“Dude, I can’t wait for you to come back!” Stiles shouts excitedly and hugs his brother. “Lydia is the only one who isn’t coming back,” he says, feigning sadness.

“I’ll be back eventually. It’ll take me about two years to get my P.h.D so once I finish that I’ll be back,” Lydia shrugs. “But you know what? While I’m here, I love watching movies, going to the market, and hanging out with my pack. Grad school is hard.”

There’s a unanimous chuckle and in a surprising turn of events, Erica launches herself on top of Stiles with a playful growl. Then Boyd threw himself on top. Scott followed suit while Lydia snapped a picture on her phone. Isaac rolled his eyes and avoided the playful scuffle with a fond smile. Stiles is crushed under three werewolves and he’s giggling because of the strong tickling fingers. Their tickle fight goes on for a few more minutes until he starts crying for a completely different reason. 

“Alright, so your dad is bringing back six different pies from the bakery in town and we’ve got every kind of takeout in town. All that’s left to do is pick the first movie for the marathon.” Scott says, climbing off of his friend. Stiles sniffs, wipes his tears and chokes up.

“You guys are the best.” Stiles gushes. He takes a look at everyone’s selected movies and decides on an Indiana Jones marathon to start with. 

Stiles works hard to keep his mind off of what Peter is doing, he knows he only has to wait around three more hours before he hears from Peter. He definitely doesn’t check his phone every ten minutes. It definitely doesn’t annoy everyone else in the pack. They don’t call him on it, however, because he’s their friend and they love him. Stiles definitely don’t become concerned when they make it halfway through  _ The Last Crusade _ when he realizes that Peter hasn’t called yet. The rest of the pack knows that he’s worried about Peter.

“Just sit tight, Stiles.” Lydia rubs his shoulder consolingly, “He’ll call when he can.”

Stiles nods and lays his head on her shoulder and puts his phone away in his pocket, realizing that Lydia is correct, as usual. So he decides to play around with his pack, enjoy the movie, and just relax. By the time Harrison Ford and Shiah Labeouf are fighting off some graveyard creeps, the majority of the pack is passed out and Scott is only barely hanging on. Stiles is munching on cherry pie while watching Scott’s head bob up and down in effort. Ten more minutes and Scott finally fell asleep. Stiles took that moment to get up and go get another slice of consolation pie. 

This is his third slice and he doesn’t see a problem with it. He munches at the table when he finally feels his phone ring. He sees Peter’s name flash on the screen and fumbles with his phone before eagerly answering it. 

“Peter!” Stiles almost shouts before remembering his sleeping pack and taking the call outside on his porch. 

_ “Hello Stiles, _ ” Peter sighs. He sounds exhausted and distressed.

“Are you alright?” Stiles jumps in quickly, “You don’t sound alright.”

_ “It’s just been a long day,” _ Peter says stiltedly,  _ “I would have called sooner but Laura wanted a full recap of what’s been happening in town.” _

“Why would she want that?”

_ “Because she still has this idea that Beacon Hills is Hale territory.” _ Stiles can actually picture Peter’s eye roll.  _ “Anyways, thank you for driving me to the airport. I appreciate it.” _

“Anything for you, Peter.” Stiles smiles just a little. He begins nibbling on his thumbnail nervously. He’s trying not to get invasive with his questions but his nerve is starting to grow out of control.

_ “Just ask me all your questions already, I can hear you sawing away at your thumbnails.” _ Peter chuckles through the phone, eager to hear Stiles spouting off his questions just to hear his voice as long as he can.

“How was the flight? How’s New York? How’s your pack? What’s the weather like? Are they treating you alright? Will you bring me back a snow globe? Also a postcard? How’s Laura, is she being nice to you?” Stiles stops to take a deep breath and paused eagerly to hear Peter’s response.

_ “The flight was fine, I had just enough wolfsbane ointment to get to the airport but once I landed I ran out so it was. . .stinky. . .New York smells, it’s loud and annoying. The people are rude and I do not like the crowds. It’s particularly annoying here with my senses being so heightened. The pack is alright, Derek is as silent and broody as usual. He’s been this way since the fire and honestly, if Laura would get her head out of her own ass, she might be able to help him. Laura is every bit of a tyrant as she used to be. Of course, I’ll bring you back some trinkets.”  _ Peter chuckles that last remark but all Stiles can focus on is the strain in his voice and the comment about Laura being a tyrant and how Derek is suffering.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Stiles says miserably, “What about Cora? How is she?”

_ “She’s still refusing to come back to Laura’s pack. She says she’d rather live in South America than with Laura.”  _ Peter’s voice is harsh and unforgiving with a tinge of bitterness and Stiles can hear the sad undertone. 

“I’m sure she’ll come back someday,” Stiles says, not sure what else to offer his friend.

_ “I hope she doesn’t. No one deserves to live in this hellish pack.”  _ Peter growls,  _ “Laura didn’t touch me when I got to the apartment. She couldn’t stand to scent me. Then she huffed and puffed about having another Alpha’s scent so heavily ingrained in my skin.” _

“I’m so sorry, Peter.” Stiles feels the hot sting of tears at his eyes. He can’t imagine having to live under the thumb of an Alpha that couldn’t give two shits about you.

_ “It’s alright, darling. Please don’t cry, I don’t want you to be sad for me.” _ Peter’s voice turns soft and Stiles chokes out a little laugh, struggling to reign in the sadness,  _ “I’m spending time with Derek tomorrow, he looks as if he’s had a total of twelve hours of socializing since the last time I’d been out here. He’s so touch starved it’s amazing that he hasn’t lost control yet.” _

“God, what is Laura doing?” Stiles wants to scream at that girl, “She’s not helping Derek at all by restricting closeness.” 

_ “I know, I hugged Derek on my way in and he practically melted on me like butter melts on a pancake.” _ The analogy makes Stiles burst out into laughter and Peter smiles at hearing the sound. It’s the highlight of his day. 

“Well, I hope you and your nephew have a good time tomorrow.” Stiles laughs.

_ “I do as well, what did you do after I left?”  _ Peter asks, not wanting the call to be over so soon. He wants to listen to the fae’s heartbeat for just a little longer. Just so he can fall asleep.

“The pack was waiting for me with an array of takeout and movies. We just did a movie night. It was fun.” Stiles summarizes the night, “We talked about our plans for when everyone graduates this year. They’re all coming back to town.”

_ “I’m glad to hear that, I know you miss them very much.” _ Peter murmurs. He’s finished getting into his pajamas and he’s settling into bed. Listening to Stiles’ voice is soothing his overworked nerves and he’s finally able to relax.

“Yeah, especially since we’re getting so close to graduation, everyone’s really thinking about it. I’m excited but I know that May is going to be so busy with how many graduation ceremonies we’re going to have to go to.” Stiles laughs, “It’ll be crazy, but a good kind of crazy.”

_ “Yes, graduation is going to be great for everyone, is Lydia coming back too?” _ Peter asks.

“No, She’ll be back for the summer but then she’s going back to finish up her doctorate,” Stiles says sadly.

_ “She’s quite brilliant, she’s made quick work of her degrees and I’m sure she’ll be back before you know it.” _ Peter assures him gently,  _ “It’s very early in the morning here and if I want to get enough sleep to traipse around New York with Derek in a couple of hours, I need to sleep.” _

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Stiles tries not to sound too put out, “I’ll let you go.”

_ “Thank you for talking to me, Stiles.”  _ Peter pauses for a moment and he can’t seem to keep the words in his mouth,  _ “I miss you very much and I appreciate getting to talk to you before I fall asleep. Goodnight, Stiles.” _

“I miss you too, Peter, goodnight.” Stiles hangs up the phone after stumbling over his words, not sure how he could be so awkward to such a wonderful and pure statement of feelings. He stares at his phone for another few minutes before tuning in to hear his wolves snoring loudly in the next room. He feels the hurt surrounding his heart ease just a little bit and he goes back to join his pack. When he enters the room, he sees the soft white glow from Lydia’s phone, illuminating her face. When she sees him, she gives him a soft smile and opens her arms. Stiles accepts the open invitation readily and crawls into her arms. He lays his head down on her shoulder and she wraps her arms around him, holding him against her chest tightly. 

“He’ll be home before you know it,” Lydia whispers consolingly to him.

“I know,” Stiles sighs, “But I could tell him that he was upset. Laura is the worst Alpha, it’s abuse.”

“She isn’t the best Alpha, but she is Peter’s, and until he realizes how he’s suffering we can’t do anything.” Lydia rubs the back of his head.

“It just hurts,” Stiles feels like crying. He knows he’s absorbing Peter’s emotions, which 

shouldn’t be possible considering the distance between them, but he just feels his emotions and Peter’s washing together.

“What hurts, sweetie?” Lydia squeezes him just a little tighter.

“Peter being so far away,” Stiles whispers, “I feel his pain, I feel the abandonment that he feels and the deep seeded insecurities that eat at him when no one’s looking.”

“That’s a lot of emotions to be feeling at once.” Lydia points out, “I know you feel him so deeply, have you actually stopped to consider  _ why _ you feel this way?”

Stiles doesn’t have a response for her. His brain is too muddled and he’s not sure how he could possibly suss out his feelings from Peter’s. He had never given too much thought as to why he feels so strongly. He’s not sure as to why but now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t have a solid answer. All he has is a feeling. He feels strongly for Peter with an emotion that he’s never felt before and it’s difficult for him to place.

“No,” Stiles whispers to her, “I haven’t thought about it.”

“What do you feel when you think about Peter?” She asks gently.

“I’m not sure. I do feel something, but it’s strong.” Stiles admits, “I’ve never felt it before.”

“Do you think that maybe, that feeling is romantic love?” Lydia prods.

“I mean,” Stiles stutters, “Possibly. How can I be sure though?”

“Well. . .can you describe it to me?” Stiles thinks for a moment and it’s difficult to really place his emotions. To really put words to it.

“It’s hard. Honestly, I’m struggling to separate his feelings from mine.” He says thoughtfully, “It’s like his emotions just blend with mine so well that I’m just not sure where I end and he begins. When I’m with him it’s as if that blending makes me feel so complete and at home. It’s warm where both our emotions connect, like warm waters.” 

“Stiles. . .sweetie. . .” Lydia chuckles lightly under her breath, “I think you’re very fond of Peter.” Stiles remains still, his breath caught in his throat. He can see what she’s trying to say and it dawns on him that he is quite fond of Peter. He’s exceptionally fond of him.

“Have you ever been in love?” 

“You know I have,” Lydia sighs sadly, “Love is complicated, Stiles, and there are different levels to it. There’s infatuation, familial and deep, earth-shattering love. I’ve had all three. Each one is more powerful than the last. When you’re in that deep, earth-shattering kind of love. . .it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s like that one person is what keeps your feet on the ground, your spirits in the sky, and just thinking about them makes your soul sing.”

“How do you know you have that?” Stiles whispers wistfully.

“Sometimes you won’t know. Sometimes, it’s like nothing in your life is out of place, but the sun shines just a little brighter and the birds sing just a little more. The world is happier but you don’t even notice because that happiness is shadowed by your own happiness.” Lydia rubs his back gently, “Stiles, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Ever since Peter’s been in your life, you glow. It’s like your soul shines through.”

“What do I do?” 

“I don’t know, honey,” Lydia places a kiss on top of his head and Stiles soaks up the contact, “It’s your decision, but I can tell you that just by looking at him, he’s madly in love with you as well. However, I have to tell you that he’s going to be a tough nut to crack.”

Stiles nods, knowing exactly what she’s saying. He knows just how difficult it is to get through to someone so traumatized. Stiles knows that he’ll have to take things slow and gentle with Peter. He’ll need to think about this now that he knows exactly how he feels.

“You’ll know what do do,” Lydia assures him, “When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”

“You’re right. You’re always right.” Stiles squeezes her gratefully.

“Damn straight,” She chuckles, “Now go to sleep.”

Stiles nods and feels his heart ease. This time, his mind goes into the darkness easily and he’s able to let sleep take him. Though, he can distinctly hear Peter’s heartbeat in his dream, beating away for him.


	9. Ipomoea

It’s been three. Days. Three days since Peter’s been in New York visiting his pack and now all he wants to do is go home. Laura’s been casting him aside, belittling him, and downright abusing him. She nearly slashed him by “accident” the other day at dinner when he dared speak about Scott. Peter learned quickly that he better remain silent whenever she is in the room. It’s difficult considering the state that Derek is in. Peter can tell that he loves his sister, as some deep part of himself still loves Laura as a family but he isn’t willing to love her as an Alpha. 

He speaks to Stiles every night and has long since collected the trinkets that Stiles asked for. Now he only wishes to return to Beacon Hills. He still has a few more days in New York, however, and he’s struggling to keep still. He rarely spends time in the apartment unless Laura’s called them to dinner, Peter has spent all of his time outside of the apartment. He’s woken up every morning before Laura and left the apartment, usually with Derek in tow, and remained out all day until long after she’s retreated to her room. 

“She’s usually not this. . .” Derek whispers from the kitchen after having triple checked that Laura is indeed asleep.

“Hostile?” Peter offers with a grimace. Derek doesn’t agree but he also doesn’t disagree, “Well, I’m sure that’s because I am here.”

“Why is she like that with you?” Derek hands him a cup of hot tea, “Why is she always so hostile when you come to visit? I know she’s not the best Alpha, certainly not like mom was, but-”

“People change with grief, dear nephew.  _ Grief _ changes people.” Peter says sadly, “She was never my biggest fan. You must know that when you were young and Laura was small, she was much different than how she is now. It all changed when your parents passed.”

“Because-”

“I swear to God, Derek if you say because of you I am going to hurt you.” Peter threatens. Derek’s eyes turn to steel and he settled back in his chair. He’s forcing his body to portray openness and confidence but Peter knows better. He hates that Derek seems to have regressed back to self-loathing. “You can’t still believe that Derek, not now. Not as an adult.”

“Most of the time I don’t.” Derek sighs. He rubs his head with a stiff hand. Peter sees that years on his face that shouldn’t be there. All the years of fear and shame. It doesn’t look good on one so young, “Sometimes. . .sometimes I think Laura believes it. So it can be hard for me not to believe it.”

Peter shakes his head disappointedly, “This place isn’t healthy for you.”

Derek doesn’t speak. He can’t disagree with his uncle and the truth of the matter is, he’s hated being here in New York for a long time. Peter’s right, it isn’t good for him to be here. He loves his sister, always has, but since their parent’s death all those years ago. . .she hasn’t looked at him the same way. It’s something Derek’s had to live with. It’s something he’s often thought that he doesn’t- _ shouldn’t _ have to live with. 

“I’m tired, Peter.” Derek confesses, “I miss Cora, I’m tired of being in this city that just sucks the life out of me, and being with Laura when I know she resents me but she feels an obligation to keep me.”

“She shouldn’t feel obligated,” Peter growls. “You’re her brother, her beta.”

“I know.” Derek says, stopping Peter from going on a rant.

“Cora never agreed with how Laura treats you or me for that matter, that’s why she’s not here. I miss her too. You and Cora were always my favorites.” Peter grins, “You already know that though.”

“I’ve always known.” Derek’s frown breaks and he manages a smirk, “Even when we were little, I knew.”

“Cora just had this spunk in her. Reminded me of me. And you? How could I not favor you?” Peter chuckles, “You, my boy, were the cutest baby.”

Derek rolls his eyes but sips on his tea nonetheless. 

“Tell me more about Beacon Hills, and Stiles. Tell me about Stiles.” Derek smirks. Peter sighs and takes the chance to check his phone. He had texted Stiles earlier and he knew that the younger man would be waiting for his call. No matter how late it was, Stiles doesn’t sleep.

“He’s half fae,” Peter says with a wry grin, “He’s closer to your age, and he’s incredibly gifted. His magic is so strong and such a force for good that when you’re around him, you feel the goodness.”

“He sounds enchanting,” Derek chuckles, “And you haven’t made a move?”

“Dere-” Peter warns with a slightly threatening tone but Derek isn’t afraid of his uncle.

“Don’t bullshit me, uncle. In the last few days you’ve been here, you call Stiles every night and you talk until you can hear him fall asleep. Every time your phone pings you practically fling it out of your pocket in your rush to see who it is.” Derek points out bluntly, jabbing a finger at his uncle, “Stiles means a lot to you and what I don’t understand is why you don’t act on these feelings even though you clearly love him.”

“It’s not that easy, Derek.” Peter sighs, choosing to sip at his tea rather than continue the discussion.

“What makes it difficult, Peter?” Derek groans in mild annoyance.

“The fact that I’m not in the pack. You know pack law. Secondly, Stiles is pure. His energy is pure and I’m not. I’ve done so much in my life, Derek. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of and Stiles doesn’t deserve to deal with all of my baggage.”

“Uncle, you know that Stiles won’t care. Yes, you’ve done some questionable things in your life, but who hasn’t? Your past is your past, it’s behind you. Don’t let your past stand in the way of your future. Now, I know that that isn’t the big reason behind why you won’t go for Stiles.” Derek leans on the table and gives his uncle a firm stare, knowing exactly what his issue is, “I’m not stupid. I remember when you were a teen and mom was pissed at you for chasing that  Alpha to New York.”

Peter’s eyes widen in surprise. He hadn’t known that Derek knew about that. Peter had been so young. Young and foolish. He was eighteen and he had met a girl on summer break and then she convinced him to come to New York with her. She wanted him to be a part of her pack and she had been so kind. She was beautiful and smart, far too cunning for one her age. Peter liked her vicious streak too, she had a knack for darkness and it sparked something in him. She was his first love. So he followed her. 

It was stupid and it put him at odds with his pack, a pack that didn’t like who he was chosen over his own mother. It was terrible and it tore their family apart. Peter hadn’t felt an ounce of remorse while under the sway of his girlfriend. His family hadn’t known all the things she was doing to Peter. She had gotten him to separate from his pack and accept her as his Alpha and when she had total control over him, she abused it. Peter never told anyone this, of course, because he’s ashamed to say that he can’t remember many of the things she made him do under her Alpha commands. It had taken him almost two years before he even knew what she was doing and by then, he felt so estranged from his family. He was estranged from the only lifelines he knew. It took him another year before he finally reached out after the Alpha had made a mistake in her command and Peter was finally able to leave. He had run back to Beacon Hills as fast as he could.  

It’s still hard for Peter to remember that period in his life. 

His mother knew what had happened but he had never told anyone other than her. Talia had been her own kind of Alpha, unlike their mother she was far more judgemental of him. She never knew the truth and treated Peter as a traitor until the day she died. She never understood and it had given Peter another reason to hate Alphas and the power they hold. She had made him her enforcer and left him alone to deal with the threats that came to the gates of Beacon Hills. He had suffered at the hands of witches and mages, vampires and other supernatural beings. Anyone with power greater that his own, he was wary of. 

“I know what it’s like to be taken advantage of.” Derek says to him, “I know what it’s like to be used and thrown away. I know what it feels like to fear power because I fear Laura sometimes.”

Peter doesn’t think he can look at Derek. He doesn’t think he can look into his nephew’s eyes and see the pain he feels mirrored in him. Derek doesn’t push knowing he’s struck a chord. He knows he doesn’t know all that happened, his grandma never told anyone what happened to Peter and it didn’t dawn on him until  _ after _ Kate. He didn’t understand until it happened to him. He remembers when Peter returned to the pack, the opposite of the prodigal son, and the only one who really loved him again were grandma and grandpa. Everyone else couldn’t understand. Even Derek hadn’t understood either, but he had seen how Peter had changed. He wasn’t so happy anymore, he didn’t walk with his head held high because he felt confident like the old Peter. He walked with his head high because he  _ needed _ to, like if he wasn’t strong at any point, something bad would happen. He might get hurt again.

Derek understands that now.

“What do you think I should do then?” Peter asks almost helplessly. It’s the first time Derek has ever seen his uncle be vulnerable. It’s startling  _ and _ inspiring.

“I can’t say.” Derek offers unhelpfully, “All I can tell you is that in order to be happy, you need to let go of the past and be open to the future.” Peter thinks for a moment and looks up at Derek, into his mother’s eyes that have been copied flawlessly in Derek. 

“You should really take your own advice.” Peter throws back at him. Derek looks down then and sighs, knowing that his uncle is right.

“I can’t leave Laura. She’s all I have.  _ I’m _ all she has. What will happen to her if I just pack up and leave? Where would I go? Who would want me?” Derek asks questions he knows he’s been asking himself for years now.

“I want you,” Peter answers honestly, “Plenty of Alphas out there would want a good beta like you, Derek. You could come with me, come back to Beacon Hills and entreat Alpha McCall to give you asylum. Laura will have to figure it out. She’s not fit to look after you and to be your Alpha. Take it from someone who spent a lot of time under the thumb of an Alpha that wasn’t fit.” 

Derek doesn’t say anything more but he knows he has a lot to consider. He finishes his tea and calls it a night. He gives his uncle a careful hug before retreating to his room. It was the heaviest conversation that Peter’s ever had with Derek and he feels that it was long overdue. It’s high time he tells Derek that Laura isn’t right for him or the family. She’s warped and twisted, out of sorts, and the Hale line is ending with her. Peter gets ready to call Stiles when Laura walks into the kitchen. Peter freezes, takes in her stern expression and knows something bad is coming. 

“Get out.” Her voice is ice cold and it fills Peter with dread. “Not  _ fit?” _

“Laura-” Peter gets to his feet gently, slowly, and lowly so as not to offend the Alpha. She crowds him, her eyes blazing red. He’s pushed into a corner and he knows that the angry Alpha is nothing to trifle with.

“Shut up!” Laura growls malevolently, “You absolute worthless, conniving, traitorous man. I should slit your throat where you stand but the pleasure of knowing you’ll be an omega is too sweet to pass up. It’s a just punishment for all that you’ve done. Mom knew better than to trust you and now I’m just doing what she never had the balls to do.”

She shoves him brutally to the ground and slashes his chest. It’s a warning shot and Peter knows that he needs to move at that instant. He doesn’t stay to listen to Laura’s torrent of insults and gets to his feet, forgoing the slow careful movements and runs out of the apartment. He doesn’t grab anything but what he has on him and doesn’t waste time closing the door or saying goodbye to Derek, he’ll send a text when he’s safe on a plane home. When he’s safely in the elevator, he assesses the damage. The claws on his chest won’t heal and he’s already feeling the broken bonds start to eat at him. Peter begins hyperventilating, gingerly touching the bleeding slashes. He manages to pull his cardigan closed and buttoned to hide the slashes and he does his best not to show the doorman that he’s injured as he speeds out of the building, arms struggling to stay at his sides. 

The streets of New York are still busy as the apartment is so close to the Theater District in Manhattan. People pass by him and think nothing as he slinks into the nearby alleyway, shivering with the cold and pain and anxiety. His shaking hands are bloody as the only thought in his head is  _ Stiles.  _ He reaches into his pocket and grabs his cellphone, his shaking fingers operate robotically as his eyesight begins to go in and out as black spots take over. His breathing is harsh and he can’t focus, but Stiles is on his speed dial and before he knows it, his fae is answering the phone.

_ “What’s wrong?” _ Stiles’ voice is strained and of course, he already knows that something has gone terribly wrong with Peter.

“S-stiles,” Peter grits. He knows he has to pull it together but he’s struggling to speak with the throbbing pain in his mind from the broken bond to his Alpha. 

_ “Peter, just listen to the sound of my voice,” _ Stiles says calmly,  _ “I’m here and I’m listening, I want you to breathe in, take a deep breath for me.” _

Peter tries to follow instruction but he can’t. He can’t see Stiles and he can’t hear him. He can’t feel him. He’s alone and he can’t breathe. He feels like he’s going to black out as a burst of black begins to cloud his vision. He’s hot all over and he’s taking in too much sensory information without end. The cars and people walking on the streets, the slamming of shop doors, the honks of the horns, the smell of smog, and the overwhelming scents of 20,000 people. It’s too much.

_ “Okay, Peter, can you hear me?”  _ Stiles’ voice breaks through and Peter nods _ , “Alright if you can hear me, I need you to get somewhere quiet and safe. Can you do that? Is there somewhere you can go? I need you to talk to me,” _

“Y-yeah. Safehouse,” Peter manages to grit through his teeth. The place is too far to walk in his state. It’s in New Jersey just inside of Sout Mountain Reservation. It’ll take an hour for him to get there but he’ll take his chances in a cab. 

_ “Good, can you get there on your own?”  _ Stiles asks breathlessly. He's busy packing a bag as hastily as he can. 

“Yes.” Is all Peter says, he takes a breath and tries to calm his racing heart enough to hail a cab. He steps out into the light and raises his arm, almost immediately a yellow cab rolls up and stops. He doesn’t hesitate to throw himself into the cab. “Jersey. Hundred bucks if you speed it up.” The driver nods and the cab speeds off.

_ “I’m packing a bag right now, you can stay on the phone with me all the way to the safehouse if you need to, I’ll be on a plane here in a few hours.”  _ Stiles tells him calmly over the phone,  _ “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” _

“Just a scratch,” Peter lays back and breathes as best he can, feeling marginally better to be away from all the noise. It stinks to high hell but he’s starting to come down from the shock, now it’s just pain. 

_ “Okay, okay. I’m leaving the house right now, I’ll be there by morning. I need you to text me the address, can you do that for me?”  _ Stiles’ voice is soft and gentle. Peter tunes out all the noise he’s surrounded by and focuses on Stiles’ voice. His chest still burns and the bonds are raw in his head but with Stiles talking to him he knows that everything will be okay once he’s here. 

“Yes.” Peter breathes.

_ “Okay, just stay on the line with me, Peter.” _ Stiles murmurs. Peter can hear him speaking to someone on the other end and he knows it’s someone in the pack but he can’t make out their voice.  _ “Alright, okay, now that you’re calmer, I would like to cast a few protection charms on you, is that okay?” _

“Yes,” Peter answers desperately. He wants to feel Stiles’ energy around him and desperately wishes for all the comfort he can get at that moment. He can hear Stiles’ voice chanting on the other end, words that he doesn’t understand and suddenly, across time and space, there is a warmth that surrounds him. It has a calming effect almost immediately and he’s suddenly able to breathe easy. His muscles ache with the strain but he’s finally able to relax. Stiles’ calming magic has made it possible for him to stop shaking. He hardly feels the slash marks that still bleed on his chest. “Thank you,” He whispers.

_ “I’m going to give one more charm to you, it’ll dampen your senses so you can travel without your super senses giving you problems, is that alright?”  _ Stiles’ voice is so soft Peter feels like he could slip into it like a cloud and sleep there.

“Yes.” Peter sighs and relaxes into the uncomfortable seats. Once again he hears Stiles’ words and suddenly, the volume of the cars outside and the terrible music the cab driver is listening to is dampened and the scents all around him are manageable. “Thank you,”

Stiles talks to Peter for the next hour until Peter gets to the safehouse. It’s a welcoming distraction from the pain in his body and mind. Stiles tells him about Beacon Hills and about what’s going on in town. When Peter arrives at the house, he is able to breathe easy. He feels safe, or marginally so. It’s quiet finally and the scents are only of pine trees and clean air. The wolf pays the happy cab driver and doesn’t stay to watch him drive off. Peter gets the key and lets himself in, it’s a small cottage, the only one nestled into the trees on this block. The nearest neighbor is five miles out. It’s quiet and the only noise is the sound of nature. 

“I’m at the house,” Peter tells Stiles. He sees the blinking red light on his phone that lets him know that his phone is going to die soon and he panics, “My phone is dying.”

_ “Okay, that’s okay, I’ve got wards all over you, you’re safe, Peter. I swear that you’re safe. I want you to shower and rest, try to sleep and I’ll be there before you know it.”  _ Stiles instructs urgently,  _ “Text me the address and I’ll be there, I promise. I’m almost to the airport right now. I’ll bring you home.” _

Peter sighs and nods, “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

_ “See you soon.” _ Stiles’ voice is sad and worried. Peter knows that much.

The older wolf hangs up as his hands begin to shake. He moves on robotic feet and he can’t keep his mind from blacking out. 

 

. . .

 

Peter is sleeping restlessly when Stiles arrives at the safe house. Stiles lets himself in with the key hidden in the lockbox and goes as quietly as he can. The house is cute and he wishes he had time to take in the subtle little marks that he knows are all Peter. Instead, he walks up to the stairs and follows his intuition into the bedroom he knows Peter is in. The place is dusty from disuse. He walks through the open door and sees Peter tossing and turning. He’s shirtless and sweating, he can hear the wolf’s whimpers and it breaks his heart. The depth of the wolf’s emotions hit him full force and through his empathy, he can feel it just as strongly. 

He feels tears in his eyes and swipes at them furiously,  _ be strong for Peter _ . He walks up to the sleeping wolf’s form and sits at the edge of the bed, preparing to wake him. Then he sees the four long and deep claw marks across Peter’s chest. They’ve stopped bleeding but they’re red and angry, inflamed.  _ That bitch. _ Stiles’ soul rages for his wolf. He works to calm his own heart so that he can be with Peter in his time of need. After a few calming breaths, he lets out his energy into the room and places a calming spell around Peter. The wolf settles immediately and lays still. 

“Peter,” Stiles whispers, stroking the light hair on the older man’s head soothingly, slowly coaxing him into wakefulness. Peter feels a voice calling to him, pulling him out of sleep and he slowly comes back, though he doesn’t want to because of the pain he feels. The voice is familiar and holds only love and peace. He can’t ignore it. His wolf demands it.

“Stiles,” Peter’s voice is sleep logged and he’s tired. It takes him a minute before he realizes that he’s not dreaming Stiles, he’s actually here with him. His eyes burn with anguished tears and he can’t stop the quiver in his chin that signals a sob. Stiles opens his arms and brings the wolf close to his chest, holding him tight as he cries. 

“It’s okay now,” Stiles shushes him, stroking his head, “It’ll be alright.”

He lets Peter cry for his broken bonds. He lets Peter mourn for the relationship he never had with his Alpha and for the missing bond with his beloved nephew. He lets Peter cry for all the hurt and abandonment that he feels. Stiles feels all of his emotions so strongly that it takes his breath away and he struggles not to cry. It’s hard on him and he doesn’t know if he can take it. He resigns himself to simply hold his wolf through the tears. 

Stiles kicks off his shoes and climbs all the way into the bed and morphs to hold Peter against his body. Peter practically lays on top of him as he seeks comfort from his fae. After a while, he stops crying and falls asleep again, exhausted from all that happened and Stiles sleeps with him, never letting go of the man. Stiles doesn’t usually sleep unless exhausted magically and after hours of maintaining calming and protection spells for Peter over a long distance, he’s thoroughly magically exhausted. It’s almost peaceful. Neither is sure how long they manage to sleep for but it’s the middle of the night when they both wake up. They managed to sleep all day. Stiles wakes up first and he’s starved. He feels weak from the lack of food and magical exertion so he knows he needs to eat and soon. 

“Peter,” Stiles nudges his wolf gently into wakefulness. They’re in the same position they fell asleep in. “Peter, it’s time to wake up.”

“Stiles,” Peter’s lips smack adorably and Stiles tries not to gush at that. He smiles and strokes the wolf’s hair.

“Just nod if you’re awake enough to understand me,” Peter nods, “Good, are you feeling better? More in control?” Peter nods again, “Okay, how about I order us some food and we’ll start getting ready to head back home. The drive to the airport alone will take a while.”

Peter nods one more time and allows him to stretch away from him in order to reach his phone and make the call. Peter doesn’t stop nuzzling into Stiles’ side, desperate to make the younger man smell more like him. He wants to claim, he wants a bond so desperately. Stiles runs his fingers through the wolf’s hair gently, lightly tugging on the strands of silky hair. Peter doesn’t listen to Stiles speaking over the phone. He only waits for Stiles to come back to him fully and hold him tight. When the fae returns, Peter can’t help but let out a whine. Stiles gently nudges the wolf to roll on his back for a moment to see the claw marks on his chest healing sluggishly. They’re not as red now and they’re smaller. His skin is knitting itself back together. Stiles is grateful for it but he’s unhappy to know that Peter was hurt in the first place.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles’ soft voice breaks the silent barrier between them.

“Fine. Better now.” Peter tells him, “I don’t feel much of anything anymore to be honest.”

“I’m absorbing the majority of the emotions you’re feeling,” Stiles confesses, “I don’t like that you’re in this much pain. I don’t like that you were hurt.”

“She was angry.” Peter sighs, placing his nose at the crook of Stiles’ neck, “I couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“She had no right.” Stiles grits through his teeth angrily, “I’m so happy you’re safe.”

“Thanks to you,” Peter murmurs, “It was so overwhelming, all of the pain from the broken bonds but also the sensory overload at being let loose without an anchor.”

“It was cruel of her.” Stiles practically growls, “I swear, Peter, you have a place in our pack in Beacon Hills. You have a home with us and you are wanted there. We all love you and want you home.”

Peter feels his heart constrict with emotion. Laura had thrown him out, cast him out and cut him off from the last of his family. It was cruel and it hurts beyond belief. Per werewolf law, being cast out of a pack and made into an Omega is a severe punishment. It isn’t taken so lightly and had Laura grown up as Peter had, then she might know why Talia never gave him that title. It’s a death sentence.

“Will Scott accept me?” Peter whispers so quietly that Stiles strains to hear him. 

“You know he will,” Stiles assures him, “The pack has already accepted you in everything but an actual claim.” 

“How are we going to get me back without me flipping out on the airplane? I don’t have any of my salves or my headphones. I don’t even have my clothes.” Peter says dishearted. 

“I can make you new salves and we can get you new things.” Stiles answers consolingly. “It’ll take me a day to get the items together and to make the salve, is that alright? I can run to the store and get you some headphones and I’ll enchant them.”

Peter nods happily. They lay together, breathing each other in until the food arrives, but they cuddle tightly and they roll around in their collective scent, and when Scott calls, they answer and give him a full recap of what happened. Scott reassured both of them and formally welcomed Peter into the pack and when they return home, the first thing they’ll be doing is laying claim to Peter effectively bringing him into the fold. 

Peter feels like he’s fulfilled when Stiles places a gentle kiss on Peter’s forehead and revels in the warmth of his body. Stiles came for him, just like he promised. Stiles stayed with him, just like he promised. Stiles never hurt or lied to him, which is more than he can say for his former Alpha. Peter knows that Stiles would never hurt him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, hope you're well! Some fresh hell goes down in this chapter and I hope you like it! Let me know what you think and what you want to see more of! Peace and love!


	10. Jasminoides

Stiles crouches down in the safe house’s small backyard. He pulls a packet out of his pocket and inspects the seeds with a sharp eye, picking out the ones he needs. Smiling to himself, he places the seeds in the ground and lets his magic do the work. He plucks the herbs that he grew instantaneously with his magic. He inspects them and smiles at their bright green leaves and purple flowers. He snaps his finger and in an instant, they’re dry in his fingers. 

He nods and goes back inside the cottage. Peter is curled up on the window bench in the kitchen, wearing Stiles’ large bright red hoodie. He’s staring out the window without really looking at anything. Stiles feels his heart squeeze too painfully. He smiles at the wolf, offering comfort, and support. He places the dried herbs on the table to sit in front of Peter. The wolf’s blue eyes go to his immediately. Peter doesn’t smile back but his frown does soften. Stiles takes that as a win. He held out a pair of headphones having enchanted them on the way back to the cottage from the store. 

“You won’t be able to hear anything once you put these puppies on.” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows in jest. Peter takes them and puts the little buds in his ears then abruptly pulls them out when he can’t hear Stiles’ heartbeat anymore. 

“Thank you,” Peter says, “I’ll put them on when we get to the airport.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods, “It won’t take long to make this salve, we’ll be out of here soon, do you want to wear my hoodie on the plane?”

Peter nods. The younger man simply smiles and ruffles his hair before returning to his salve making. Stiles hums a soft tune while he moves about the kitchen. Peter tunes in to every noise that he makes, singling out his heartbeat for a while. Stiles lets his magic roam the room freely, letting it settle over the two of them. Peter feels warm and safe sounded by Stiles’ warm glowing magic. They sit in comfortable silence as Stiles all but dances around the kitchen. When he finishes the salve and puts it into a travel tin for Peter. He rushes about and packs up the bags, setting them by the door and calls an Uber. 

“Alright, we’re all ready to go,” Stiles tells Peter. He takes the wolf’s hands and brings him into a tight hug. The wolf nods and lets him lead him out the door. “Let’s go home.”

 

. . .

 

“What did you do?” Derek’s voice is low and angry. Laura hates it. She wants to snap at him for taking that tone with her but she also doesn’t want to piss off her only beta. 

“I did what needed to be done.” She answered in her easiest tone of voice. Derek wants to scream. He wants to rage and he wants to slap Laura upside the head to knock some sense into her. He could see the anger barely contained in her stance, however, and the clinch in her jaw as she works to not let her fangs drop. 

“Just tell me if he’s alive, Laura.” Derek urges.

“He’s an Omega now.” She says with an almost gleeful twist in her voice. Derek’s eyes widen in shock, he resents the pure and unadulterated joy in her eyes at causing someone else, let alone their uncle, such a terrible fate. He resents her for taking away his only family. He resents her for taking away his choice in keeping his uncle. She took away his choice, his voice, she’s taken too much. Derek shook his head and returned to his room, afraid of his Alpha and her anger. 

She doesn’t try and stop him and he counts that as a blessing. Once he reaches his room, he quickly grabs his phone and texts his uncle.

 

_ To: Peter _

_ 11:36 AM _

 

_ Laura just told me what she did. Are you okay? Are you safe? _

 

He waits anxiously for a response but after ten minutes of radio silence, he realizes that he doesn’t want to be here in New York with an Alpha that couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him or pack. So he reaches into his wallet and finds the slip of paper that Peter wrote his address on and weighs his options.

Option one: stay with Laura. She’s never made a move to hurt him before but he thinks that now she’s made that last step to destabilization. Best case scenario, Derek toughs it out and tries to make the best of his situation. Laura is his sister and he values family.  _ Although he’s not sure how much she values family anymore _ .

Option two: get out while he can. If he can somehow get out of the apartment, he can make it to the airport and he can make it to California then he can get to Peter. He can seek asylum with Peter’s pack there and finally be wanted. He could call Cora and get her to come back.  _ Although all of this hinges on the fact that Laura will know the moment he gets on a plane and leaves.  _ The bond will get too thin and snap. He’s not sure he could handle a six-hour plane ride with bond separation. Not to mention the sensory overload. 

Option three: confrontation. He could confront Laura and get her to see reason. He could sit her down and talk to her like they used to talk before Kate before their parents died before they lost everything. He could try and show her how she’s messed up. She could see the errors of her ways and reach out to Peter to beg for forgiveness.  _ Although this option seems too far out of reach, almost like a fairy tale or make-believe.  _

Three options and if Derek were being honest with himself, he doesn’t like any of these options. He loses something in each of these options except for option three, but he doesn’t want to be naive and try the third route. He doesn’t know what to do. He puts the piece of paper back in his wallet, safe from being discovered. He doesn’t want to reveal his uncle’s hiding place to Laura. Especially since it might also become  _ his _ hiding place. The moment he sets his wallet back in his pocket, Laura walks in. 

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you a bit more. . .” Laura sighs. She sits next to him and gives him a smile, “I know you don’t see it now but Peter being gone is a good thing. It’s a great thing! He was holding us back. Peter’s a bad man, he always has been and the only reason mom didn’t cast him out a long time ago was that he was useful to her, but he isn’t useful to us.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, unsure of how to disagree with her politely. She genuinely believes what she’s saying and Derek doesn’t know what frightens him more: the expression on her face or the glint in her eyes. Both are telling that she’s lost some bit of herself and Derek doesn’t recall her ever losing it. He remembers when they were young and seeing her like this now is like a nightmare come true. 

“I think I just need time.” Derek tells her. Her grin widens and she nods rapidly. 

“I understand!” She chuckles, “A broken bond is a broken bond and you’ve always been such a sensitive soul that I’m sure you feel it more than I do. How can I help you?”

“I think I just need a vacation.” Derek suggests, “I think I’ll just take a week and run through Canada. Spend time in my shift. Get in touch with nature.” Laura looks pensive for a moment before nodding. She puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiles.

“I think that’s a great idea, Der.” Laura stands, “I know you’re probably getting a little cooped up here in the city. I think I’ll follow your lead too. A vacation sounds great! Now that I don’t need to worry about Peter anymore, I feel like all this dead weight has just been lifted and a few days at a spa will do me some good.”

Derek plasters a fake grin and nods, “Well, I think I’ll just pack a bag and drive across the border. Are you going on vacation today too?”

“I think I will. Why not?” Laura smiles brightly, “I’m going to call out of work for the next few days and check myself into that retreat upstate. Good thinking little bro. Just check in when you get to where you’re going.”

“I will.” Derek nods. He feels relief overcome him after she leaves his room. He has an out and she’s too happy at getting rid of Peter that she’s positively carefree.

He moves about the room quickly and decides that he’ll just drive to California. It’ll take two days but it’ll be good to give Peter some notice before he makes it, he’ll have to formally request permission from the Alpha of that territory. He can hear Laura calling her boss from her bedroom as she shuffles through her drawers and packs a bag.  _ I should wait for her to leave, I don’t want her to follow me, _ Derek thinks. He decides to check on the FJ and make sure it’s good to go for the journey.

“I’m taking the FJ, Laura so you can take the Camaro.” Derek says as he grabs the keys off of the table, “I’m going to go and give the FJ a tune up real quick, if I’m not back by the time you leave, I’ll see you in a few days.” Laura comes out of her room with a large smile on her face and her phone on her ear.

“Okay, sounds good. I’m inviting a few friends to the spa with me, we’re going to make it a girls weekend.” She laughs. Derek nods and gives her a hug.

“Have fun, I’ll see you in a few days.” Derek murmurs into her shoulder.

“You too, be safe, okay?” Laura smiles, “This will be good for us. You’ll see. It’s a brand new chapter, a brand new pack! We’re starting fresh and I just know that you’ll be happy, you’ll see that I was right to cast Peter out.” Derek nods and heads out the door with his keys in hand. 

He checks his phone when he’s in the garage. There’s still no message and Derek begins to worry about his uncle. He’s worried about what happened to him after Laura threw him out. Was he injured? Did he make it somewhere safe? Was he struggling with bond separation? There are too many possibilities. Derek just prays that Peter was able to call help and that help got to him in time. He prays that he has someone to go to in California. 

The FJ is ready to go within the hour. Laura hadn’t even come down to say goodbye, she was gone when he went back up to grab his things and take them to the car. He waited another half hour before he started moving like a bat out of hell. He gathered everything he could fit in the FJ. His music, his electronics, his valuables that he inherited after his parents passed. He packed his pillow and his favorite throw blanket that his grandmother knitted him. He threw all of his clothes into his luggage and packed it all in. The FJ was full to bursting when he sadly decided that he couldn’t put anything more in the car. He writes a note to Laura before he leaves.

_ Laura, _

 

_ By now you’ve seen that I’m gone. As much as I hate taking the cowards way out, I don’t think I could have left with you knowing. . .I’m honestly not sure how you would take it. You’re my sister and I love you, but over the years you’ve changed and I don’t like the person you’ve become. The old Laura loved her family and would never have kicked Peter out or been so obstinant that Cora chose another pack over her family. Not just what you did to Peter and Cora but also what you’ve done to me over the years, my issue isn’t just that you’ve broken up what little family we have left. Every time you look at me, I see the resentment in your eyes. You hold me responsible for everything that happened to our family. I’ve worked hard over the years to get to the point where I am but every time I see you look at me the way you do, I get thrown back. I took care of myself after everything happened and you moved us out here, you just left me to figure it out by myself and I did. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the fact that an Alpha could be so cruel as to do the things that you’ve done.  _

_ I know you think you’re right but I can’t be around you anymore. I don’t recognize who you are anymore. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, I wish that I could have talked to you but I know that you wouldn’t listen to me. You wouldn’t be able to step outside of yourself and see reason so I won’t be coming back. I’m afraid for you, I love you, but I can’t live like this anymore. I need a pack. I hope you can forgive me for this and that eventually, you’ll be okay. _

 

__

_ Derek _

 

He has a million things he wants to tell Laura but there just isn’t time. He still has to gas up and stop at the bank. He just hopes that he’s able to make it to California before Laura sees the note. He feels the clock nipping at his heels.  _ I’ll see you soon, Peter. _

 

. . .

 

Scott greets Stiles and Peter outside of Sacramento International Airport in Lydia’s little car, ready to drive the three of them back to Beacon Hills. He’s sullen and quiet, respectful of their space. Stiles had filled him in, but he didn’t want to press Peter before he’s ready. He watched the pair walk out of the airport. Peter has headphones in that he knows are enchanted, Stiles is holding his hand tightly and Peter is slightly hunched over. He looks tired. Scott can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the almost gaunt expression. The wolf inside of him is raging, angry for Peter. His inner Alpha wants to tear Laura apart, he couldn’t imagine doing this to one of his betas. 

“Hey guys,” Scott murmurs gently as the two of them climb into the back seat. Peter tenses at the scent of the Alpha, his wolf is sick and afraid. It breaks Stiles’ heart to see Peter so guarded around his Alpha. 

“Hi Scott,” Stiles gives a sad smile. He wraps an arm around a nearly catatonic Peter, the wolf just stares ahead into nothingness, his headphones still in his ears. “He’s been like this since we got on the plane.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Scott asks sadly. 

“He’ll be okay but he needs a bond, he needs a pack.” Stiles looks at his friend pleadingly, “Do you think maybe-”

“You know we already think of Peter as pack, Stiles. As far as we’re all concerned, he’s one of us.” Scott interrupts, “When we get back to your place, the pack will be ready to formally make the bond and take Peter in. We’ll close ranks until he feels better and more secure.”

“Thank you,” Stiles murmurs. He brings Peter in even tighter and holds him close, the older man seems to come out of it if only a little and nuzzles into Stiles’ neck. It reassures Stiles enough for the car ride.

“How were things while I was gone?” Stiles asks Scott.

“That’s actually. . .uh-”

“I take it the proverbial shit has hit the fan?” Stiles grouches.

“Relatively speaking.” Scott chuckles dryly. “There have been more grave desecrations as of late. The forest has gotten a little bit more lifeless since you’ve been gone and we could tell that the Nemeton isn’t too happy about it but the protective wards you put around her have kept her safe. We’ve been trying to track the necromancer but whenever we get close, there’s a zombie in the way.”

“A zombie?” Stiles’ eyes widen, “Not another revenant?”

“No, thank God.” Scott sighs, “Last night we caught his scent at Orange Grove Cemetary and close to five bodies were taken.”

“Close to?”

“One body had been uh. . .well there were leftover parts.” Scott clears his throat. “But there hasn’t been any sightings. It’s getting frustrating. Your dad is pissed at the lack of carnage or the waiting for the carnage.”

“I have a few ideas on how to find him, the long plane rides gave me time to think,” Stiles sighs, “We’ll deal with that problem soon.”

“You’re right, we’ll worry about it later. Right now, Peter is our top priority.” Scott says, “He might be without a pack right now but he won’t stay that way for long. I promise you, I’ll be a better Alpha than Laura ever was. I see Peter’s wolf, I know who he is. I am not going to let him go undervalued anymore.”

Stiles gets a little choked up and isn’t able to say anything. All he can do is nod and feel abundantly grateful for the Alpha, the brother he has and grateful that Peter will know love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I know this is a short chapter but bear with me! Thank you all for your kind words of encouragement, I love reading your comments. I hope y'all are havin a good week!


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